Cops and Robbers
by P. Fishies
Summary: In a time not too far from our own, Alliance Enforcement Regime, AER, Official Benjamin Lightyear is charged with finding and arresting members of the rebellion Outlaw gang, more specifically Outlaw Bazooka Jane.
1. A Prologue and A Beginning

**A/N: So, I tried to get this idea out of my head, I really did. It was very persistent. Annoyingly so, really. Therefore, I present... this story. Yes, some parts of it are cliché, but how can you have a dystopian futuristic world WITHOUT the bad guys being called The Alliance? I mean, seriously. Anyway, let me know what you think, ok? For real, I'm not omniscient, I don't know if you like it or not if you only read and don't review :P.

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A Prologue

For lack of better words, the Earth was a disaster. Hardly anything was left; broken bits of machinery here, some barely useable technology there, exactly what was expected after a nuclear fallout, especially that of World War IV. The remaining humans tried to band together and rebuild what was left of their lives, but everyone struggled. In the midst of all the chaos, destruction, and terror, an organization called The Alliance gained authoritative power, promising safety and peace to a broken world. It would be the New World, they said, a better world, a fairer world...

The dream didn't last very long. After only months, The Alliance began asserting its power, pushing its tightly regimented affairs onto others. Anyone and everyone who opposed were severely punished and never seen again.

For the past twenty years, a secret society differing from the Alliance has been forming ranks, planting spies, training agents, and running covert operations. Their mission is to assassinate the dictators of the Alliance and begin life anew, as free citizens. Close to nothing is known about this secret society. The only information revealed is that they call themselves The Outlaws, and they are not to be underestimated...

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Chapter 1: And A Beginning

You would never expect it, but God, he hated Mondays.

Benjamin Lightyear trudged into work early that grey, rainy morning, faking a smile to his arrived co-workers, only to slump into his chair once he reached his office. Benjamin had been in the Regime for twelve years, and even though he was one of the younger officers, he was indeed experienced and respected. Sometimes, he missed the days when he was a bright-eyed teen of the Academy, eager to do anything and everything for the Alliance. Life was easier then. There were no questions, no uncertainties; only faith in the brightness of the future.

Oh, to be young and naive once again.

Things had changed when he was assigned control of tracking and hunting down The Outlaws. Ben had been on this case two years, and every day, his job became tougher. He'd come in on Tuesday with no information about anything, then walk in Wednesday with three newfound prisoners to interrogate. It was a strenuous job in general, but to add that kind of stress to a man whose life was strictly in order from day one... that would wear anyone down after a while.

Heaving a sigh, Benjamin opened a drawer and pulled out a thick, rather messily pieced-together folder. He flipped it open on his desk and spread out the paper and pictures. Just the other day, he had gotten a lead that actually looked promising, but it ended in failure.

There was a knock on the door, and Ben looked up to see the familiar, and rather annoyingly enthusiastic, grin of Kenneth Dolle.

"Good morning, Kenneth," Ben greeted with a small salute. He was slightly surprised that Ken was in the building as early as he was.

"Morning, Buzz!" was the reply. "When are you going to start calling me Ken, huh? Huh?"

He bit his tongue and forced another smile. "When you stop calling me Buzz, perhaps?"

Ken let out an amused laugh and shook his index finger at Ben. "Ah, there you go with the jokes, Buzz! You always make my day brighter!"

_Swell_.

Ken had been in the AER shortly after Project Outlaws was established. Every day, he'd come into work wearing the most absurd outfits, bragging about his wife, taking a lengthy amount of time getting to the point in any story he told, and, all in all, being too damn happy.

"Do you have anything for me, Kenneth?"

Ken looked quite impressed with himself when he revealed he had found a new piece of information. Purely because he was obligated to, Benjamin put up with Ken's daily monologue, finally cuing in at the end when the name Bazooka Jane was mentioned.

"Bazooka Jane?" Ben clarified, recognizing the name and typing it into his computer.

"Weird, huh? From what I hear, this girl is crazy, right? I mean crazy! I'm talking like lassos, rides a horse around, talks to animals crazy."

"What is this, the Wild West?" Ben mumbled, unimpressed. He scanned through the few newspaper articles of her, then looked in his file till he found her picture. "Do we know anything else?"

"Oh, we know something else."

It was in that smug tone that made Ben's head snap up. Whenever Ken used that tone, the information he had was reliable and true for a change. "What do we know?"

A smirk, then a dramatic pause. "We think we found her."

Ben raised his eyebrows in both disbelief and intrigue. "Are we talking legitimately _found_ her this time?"

Ken nodded, then grew serious for a moment. "But its real shady, Buzz. You've got to go out west, to the Wastes in the middle of the desert. Lay low, and steak out for a few days. If you do anything bold or rash, you'll spook everyone, you know?"

Ben nodded. "Thank you, Kenneth. Give me coordinates, town names, hotels, anything you have."

Ken saluted. "Yes, sir, Buzz!"

"Also, pull your strings and get me a flight out tonight."

Ken immediately deflated. "Aw, man. I hate pulling strings. It takes forever." A glare from Benjamin, and Ken straightened. "Which is why I'll get right on it, Buzz!"

The two exchanged salutes, and Ken was off to his cubicle to do his work, leaving Ben to investigate what little information he had on Jane.

Only a handful of reports were written on her. Female, approximately 5'10", about 120 lbs, around 27 years of age, long red hair, green eyes, and a knack for dressing in dark cowboy wear. A number of years ago, she committed armed robbery and held a bank at gunpoint. A journalist managed to snap a quick photo before she disappeared. A few years later, she was caught with Breaking and Entering and Grand Theft. However, just before they took her fingerprints at the local jail, she assaulted the guards and broke free. She was stronger than her size suggested, and cunning enough to outsmart the law for this long. Some of the officers believed she was one of the higher ups of The Outlaws, but nothing was certain.

Benjamin looked at her pictures, sipping his coffee. He had seen her picture before, every time he opened up the folder as a matter of fact. As strange as it was, Ben felt like he knew Bazooka Jane, and not just from AER reports. He didn't like how he couldn't put his finger on it, and he also didn't like that, for some reason, this particular Outlaw reminded him of his old partner. Ben ran a hand through his short hair, forcing the thought away.

Outside his office, he heard the cheery voices of Ryan and Trixie as the two officers entered the building. Unlike Ken and himself, Ryan and Trixie were not field agents, but worked extensively in the office part of his Project. Ryan was good with people and interrogation methods, whereas Trixie was a master with computers and electronics. They were two teammates he did not have any qualms with. Ben called out to them, beckoning them into his office.

"Morning, Buzz," They greeted with wide grins and obligatory salutes.

"Good morning, Trixie, Rex," Ben said, nodding to them both and using Ryan's nickname. "We have a lead on Bazooka Jane."

"Wow, really?" Rex burst, perking up. Because of his ridiculous height, the young man nearly hit his head on Ben's doorframe. "This is so exciting! Oo! What can I do to help?"

"I'm leaving for the Wastes tonight," Ben explained. "But it's complicated. I need to be, for the most part, undercover."

"We'll scrounge up a fake ID and a quick Bio for you!" Trixie said, eyes sparkling at her chance for what she deemed action. "I can get you a flight out too!"

"Thanks, but I already charged Kenneth with getting me a flight out."

Rex looked confused. "Why? We could do that in, like, five minutes."

Ben smirked. "I know."


	2. Further Explanation and Into the Wastes

**A/N: Review please! No, seriously, even if it's bad. I need to know what I should fix or elaborate on :). Enjoy!**

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Further Explanation

Now, if you were to ask most of the people around what had happened 30-40 years ago, you'd get a few different answers. Some folks would tell you what their parents or the church told them; that the world was a dark, nasty place and that someone, somewhere, decided enough was enough, so the slate was "wiped clean." Others would tell you what they heard from around the bend; that one continental power got pissed off at another, and they decided the answer was bombs. Some richer, and therefore more educated, people would give you an actual textbook definition. Either way, no one really knew exactly what happened, how long ago it happened, or why it happened.

There were two kinds of humans left. The old generation, and the new. The old were, as the title would suggest, older. They were around when the world began to fall apart, and they were responsible for what little livestock, plant life, and technology survived the fallout. You ask someone from the old generation about life after the war, and they'd sit in some handmade wooden rocking chair, rambling to you for hours. They'd tell you all about how they "hiked up their britches" and "went to work." Work being rebuilding houses, breeding more animals, planting and farming, and... regaining the population.

Which, yeah, that sounds rather disgusting and unbelievable, but those left behind were lonely and stubborn people. Options were thin on the ground, they hadn't been pleased in a while, resources were practically nonexistent, and, well, there really wasn't anything else to _do_. They didn't have an education or a job to worry about anymore. How else were they going to occupy their time rebuilding the earth, if not with a family?

Those from the new generation were children at the end of the war, or very shortly after it. They don't remember much of the anything about the war, but they remember the Alliance coming to power. They remember attending specialized schools on how to build houses, or how to build computers, or how to cook, or how to solve crimes, or how to understand the new legal system. One group of people were trained in one job, and as soon as they had their education, they set out to work.

Some of the new generational people can stretch their brains and remember, ever so foggily, fire and running, and dirt and hiding. Aside from that, they couldn't tell you anything about WWIV, and they'd excuse themselves, saying that they have important business to attend to. Almost all of the old generation will clam up, get very pale and misty eyed, and tell you that they didn't want to talk about it.

People learned to deal with "what _is_" and not "what _was_." They kept their heads down, their work going, and their mouths shut.

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Chapter Two: Into the Wastes

She loved days like this.

Misty green eyes combed over the bright, clear sky before them, and the young woman breathed in the pure air. Well, as pure as you could get in those times. A smile graced her thin lips, and a sweet, quirky yodel sounded from her throat.

Jessica Albarn watched her beautiful Quarter Horse stallion trot towards her, shaking his head up and down as a sort of greeting and whinnying. No horse in the world held their own against Bullseye. His coat was a deep chestnut brown, his eyes an onyx black, and his hooves faster than any other horse Jessie had ever seen. She grinned at the sight of him.

"And where the biscuits have you been, mister? Hm?" Jessie asked, patting her horse's neck affectionately. As a response, she was given a snort and two stomps of his hoof. "Ah, out lookin' for the ladies, Bullseye?" Another snort, and Jessie laughed. "I'm only teasin' ya!"

Effortlessly, she lifted herself onto her partner's back and looked around, becoming serious. "Alright now, buddy. Time to buckle down and ride. Sheriff says he needs supplies an' we're the only ones who haven't been at this town in a while. So we won't be recognized as easily, get it?" A nod. "But we still need to be careful as a hound on the hunt, understand? No funny business, Bullseye." Another whinny, and Jessie scowled. "Hey! I'm always careful around bars!"

Usually the Sheriff came to town, but, seeing as how his bounty was raised another $5,000, he had to lay low for a while. Jessie was his next in command, and as such, took on this particular deal as her job. As they entered town, she felt slightly empty without her usual black trench coat, wide brimmed hat, and blood red bandanna. She had to leave those behind since they were kind of conspicuous everyday wear. She also had to leave behind her revolver and colt peacemaker, which _really_ bothered her. Still, she had Ol' Reliable under her shirt, her 1876 Outlaw, which she never left home without, and a knife stashed in one of her boots. No matter what went down, she wanted to be prepared.

Upon reaching her destination, she dismounted. She tied Bullseye to the decaying wooden railing beside the beat-up old tavern and told him to stay put like a good boy. Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath, put on her Outlaw facade, and marched through the doors. A few people looked at her funny, and Jess figured them to be tourists. The townspeople didn't send her a second glance, which was good, but Jessie detected a gentleman whose gaze was upon her a second too long.

She squinted and scowled, but went up to the bar and took a seat. She nodded at the tender, knowing a friendly face when she saw one. "Howdy, Slink."

Jessie had known Stanley "Slink" Dogwood since she was little. He was a good friend of her older sister and cousin, and was around her family often. After a certain nasty incident involving the Alliance, Slink became a father figure to her; an extension of the family, and he hadn't really left her side or stopped caring for her since. She hadn't seen her beloved friend in ages, since the last big Outlaw meeting a year and a half ago. Still, Slink was, and always would be, as reliable as they got in these dark days.

The older gentleman smiled and greeted her earnestly, his voice ragged and accent heavier than the usual western man. "Well, howdy, darlin! Ain't seen yer pretty face 'round these parts ever!" He wiped his hands on the towel he carried around before shaking hers. He pecked her cheek, and Jessie graced him with a smile.

"What can I say? I been busy, Slink. How's it been here?"

Slink shrugged and scratched his greying mutton chops. "Eh, drags on and on. Business ain't too rough, but days go slow as molasses since the new law limiting alcohol supplies an' such."

Jess nodded, casually glancing at the stranger she had seen earlier. He was only sitting a few seats down, but something was off about him. He was dressed far too nice, and he seemed a bit stiff for the atmosphere. Shame. He was easy on the eyes too. "Anything unusual today?"

Slink shook his head, wiping the counter some. "Nah, not 'round here, hun." But he lowered his voice to just above a whisper as he wiped near her hands. "But I'd watch the _suit_ if I was you." Jessie looked at him, confused, but when he jerked his head ever so slightly to the right, she realized he was talking about the same young man she had been eyeing.

She nodded. "Can I get my regular, Slink?" He gave her a look, and Jessie added, "I ain't gonna drink more than one, I swear!" Slink let out a hearty laugh and poured her a glass of whiskey. She thanked him and just before she took a sip, asked, "Seen him yet?" He shook his head as a response, and she let the alcohol warm her blood. Jessie exhaled, relaxing a bit.

"Hello."

She perked up, startled, hoping she hadn't missed spotting her expected company. She saw that the "suit" was looking at her, but she glanced behind her just to make sure she wasn't mistaken. Stupidly, she replied, "Huh?"

"I noticed you drink whiskey," the Suit replied, and he motioned to his own drink. "I have the same."

Jessie blinked, confused and completely on edge. "Yeah... It's my favorite."

The Suit smiled weakly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how stupid I just looked. It sounded better in my head."

_Hm. At least he admitted it._ Jessie smirked. "It's alright. I've heard worse."

The man looked angry at himself. "Damn. Guess I'm added to that list now."

She shrugged, swirling the liquid in her glass. "I dunno. Was that intended to be a pick-up line?"

He made a face, embarrassed. "Not really. More of a greeting, or a conversation-starter."

"Ah. Well, it kind of worked, if you count this as a conversation."

The Suit brightened ever so slightly. "Well, good."

There was a moment of silence when Jessie was just watching him from the corner of her eye. He was shorter than most men, but his presence still emanated a sort of power. He held himself in such a way that it commanded respect for some odd reason. She couldn't quite explain it. He was dressed in all black, and placed on his left wrist was a very expensive-looking watch. Maybe he was a lawyer? The man wore his hair very short and had quite the pair of lovely blue eyes. She hated being so interested, and she couldn't stop herself before she asked,

"You're not from 'round here, are ya?"

The man chuckled, snapping his fingers dramatically. "And I thought I had everyone fooled."

"The attire doesn't help you none," she pointed out before taking another sip of her drink. "That watch stands out like a sore thumb too."

The man scowled, looking at himself and muttering a few curses. He turned to her. "I suppose that means you know me as the tourist then?"

"More like the rich fella who might be lost," she said somewhat playfully.

He smiled... oh, and _what_ a smile. "Well, I can't have that." He then proceeded to extend his hand to her. "My name's Larry."

_Larry?_ That was _not_ his name.

As she reached out her arm and took his hand in hers, she could tell the name wasn't the only thing he was lying about. "Nice to meet ya, partner."

Now, Jessie hadn't had the best of luck... ever. She had a barrel of unpleasant memories and a handful of crude scars to prove it. She understood that she had to be twice as cautious in any given situation than the average Outlaw. She had actually triple checked with her contact, Slink, and the Sheriff about this particular outing. Apparently this still wasn't enough.

For it had to be _then_ that her awaited visitor walked into the bar. It just _had_ to be that _exact_ moment, where her hand was in Larry's (which was quite large and warm, really). Out of all the moments her benefactor walked in, it _had_ to be _that_ one.

Jessie couldn't really explain how exactly the next few chain of events happened. It was all so fast. She turned to see her expected company, felt a very slight, but very distinct twitch of Larry's fingers, turned back in time to see Larry try to cover the recognition in his eyes... Then she was up and out the door in a flash, literally dragging the interrupting company with her.

"What the hell? Jessie, what's going on?" The portly gentlemen asked, irritated and alarmed.

"Shut it, Hamm!" She hissed back, running into the alley behind the bar. She stopped, talking quickly. "Listen, I think there might be a problem here. Can we meet again later?"

Hamm looked disgruntled. "How long is later?"

Jessie thought for a moment. "Give me two hours, tops. Meet back here at five, alright?"

Hamm adjusted his suit and bowler hat. "Fine, Jess, but you owe me double now."

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close. "I just saved your life, you greedy pig!"

**BAM!**

Jessie and Hamm were thrown backwards as the pile of wooden crates beside them burst open. She was thrown against the side of the building next door, hitting her head rather hard, hearing her back crack, and feeling something sharp cut her cheek. Jessie swore, shaking herself off, and forcing the strength to pick herself and her companion up off the ground. "Meet back at five!"

Hamm was white as a sheet of paper. "But what about-?"

"Leave him to me," she said, determination filling her veins. "Now run!"


	3. Captive

**A/N: Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday (you can give me a present by reviewing my storyyyyy), happy birthday to me :) Enjoy!**

**P.S. Yes, the suit is copied from Iron Man, but and I have no claim to it. But come on... how else would you see a dystopian society space suit? Like an actual space suit, or an iron man suit? Yeah, that's what I thought. :P**

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Chapter 3: Captive

Ben wasn't sure exactly how it happened. One moment, he was thinking that Rex and Trixie could have given him a far better name than _Larry_, then a stout man walked through the door, whom he instantly recognized from the Outlaw files. He practically blinked and his target was gone.

"Damnit," he hissed, getting up and grabbing his much needed, metal briefcase. He headed quickly for the door, but the bartender stopped him and told him to pay for his drink. Ben was appalled. The nerve of some people! He had a job to do! Aggravated, he threw a twenty down, yelling, "Keep the change!" He made a mental note to bring the man in for further questioning for his obvious affiliation with the criminals... later.

Once outside, he opened his briefcase, and put his hands in the designated areas. There was hissing, buzzing, and whirring as the briefcase transformed itself around his body, forming into Ben's famous "space" suit. It was the latest in police protection technology, and Ben had worn this on many a mission. It saved his life s few times actually. Within sixty seconds, the briefcase was an outfit of armor, equipped with a laser beam and helmet full of oxygen. He flipped his helmet back, seeing as how he didn't need it, then flipped open his watch, which was obviously not a watch, but instead a connection to the AER.

"Found culprit. In pursuit. Won't take long."

Rex's fuzzy voice sounded in a response. "Ten-four, Commander!"

Ben closed his watch, and was on the move instantly. He jumped, grabbing the awning of the saloon, pulled himself up, jumped to the roof, then crouched down, finding his target not too far down the alleyway. He took aim with his laser, then fired. He had intended to hit the crates, but he hadn't intended for the crates to have accumulated a large amount of dust and dirt, nor did he expect the crates to be holding large bags of flour. There was a rough explosion, then foul language uttered from the ground. As the cloud of grime appeared, he heard footsteps running frantically away. He jumped down, rolling forward to soften the landing, then looked around, laser beam at the ready.

"Surrender, Outlaw," he said in his authoritative voice. "I know who you are. This is the Alliance Enforcement Regime. If you come with us and cooperate, things will run much more smoothly. If you resist-"

"You will be punished by the most severe criminal consequences." A woman's voice challenged him from somewhere he couldn't see. "I know the speech, buddy."

Ben whirled around, keeping all of his senses peeled, trying desperately to see his opponent. He demanded, "Show yourself!"

"Well, I reckon I _could_," the voice sounded again, only this time, it was closer. "But that wouldn't help me none, would it?"

Ben took a stab in the dark, punching into what he hoped was part of the Outlaw's body. Unfortunately, it was a brick wall.

A sympathetic hiss. "Ouch. That one hurt, huh, cowboy?"

Again, he tried to punch at the different direction he heard the voice. Nothing but air.

He heard shuffling, and the young woman giggling. He shot out, this time finally hitting something. The force of his punch was so strong she let out a surprised gasp, and a grunt as she hit the wall he had slammed her into. The flour and dust were beginning to settle and Ben could see a woman's outline. Ben whipped out his laser beam and fired impulsively.

She dodged the shot, and the four after that, one just barely nicking the end of her long, braided ponytail. She had to stop to make sure her hair hadn't been lit on fire, curses dripping from her tongue.

"Jesus, what the hell are you? A god damned space ranger?"

He kept his arm raised, his gun pointed at her. "Cease your resisting, Outlaw. This is your last warning before I use necessary acts of force or violence."

She was in shock. "Like _that_ wasn't violent?"

Taking a gamble, Ben stepped forward. "Hands in the air."

The outlaw stood still, allowing Ben to take a few steps closer. Then a strange look came across her face. "I think... I think I gotta..." By the time Ben realized her hands were slowly moving towards her belt, it was too late. "ACHOO!"

**CRACK!**

**BOOM!**

First, the crack of a gunshot sounded loud in Ben's ears, and, as he stumbled back from the force of the bullet hit, he fired off his laser unwillingly, hitting his target. She toppled back as he staggered, looking like a thrown rag doll.

For a split second, Ben was actually scared that he had killed her...

Quick as lightening, she hopped back up, fired her gun again, then dashed off around a corner. The second bullet had hit his arm, causing a slight jarring, but the suit did its job. It felt as though someone had just tried to yank Ben's arm back, and the first bullet merely felt like a strong punch to the ribs. He was sore, but completely unharmed.

He charged after the convict, but, once he turned the corner, was greeted with a fist to the face. A guttural sound escaped his throat, but he was quick to recover. He went in for a punch, but was tripped when she ducked and kicked his legs out from under him. He grabbed at her knees, dragging her down with him, and the two tumbled for a good thirty seconds. They finally hit the side of a building, breaking them apart.

The stubborn offender was up first, but Ben was down for a moment. He had hit his head and was dazed by the sudden pain. He forced himself to stand, staggering, but he was suddenly pulled backwards with a force so strong, it knocked him on his ass once more. He tried getting back up, only to realize that his hands had already been bound. He struggled more, getting to his feet and trying to free himself from the rope that imprisoned him. As soon as one rope was free, another rope was around him. They seemed to be coming from all different directions, and before he knew it, Ben was completely tied, unable to move.

"Well, well, well," came the low voice, breathing heavily. The Outlaw came into view, holding ropes in her hands. "You got one helluva fight in ya, partner." She stepped closer, having him in her hold, her lips breaking into a smug smirk. "Pretty damn impressive for an AER Official."

He glared defiantly at her, still struggling against his bindings. "Unhand me, Outlaw, or I will show no mercy with the power of the Alliance by my side!"

She gave an amused laugh. "Oh, _no_! I should probably letcha go then so you can fire your fancy ass laser beam at me and finish burning my arm off."

Ben wished he _had_ killed her when he fired his gun. He was just about ready to burst through the ropes, but she stepped forward, causing him to stop. She got close... terribly close... terribly,_wonderfully_ close. He could smell her scent, he could see that her eyes were two different colors of green. He could-

**PAIN!**

He could feel the pain! Sharp, stinging pain as a needle entered the side of his neck. He dropped to his knees, gasping, trying desperately to hold onto reality. She had poisoned him!

"Wh-what did you-?" He blinked hard a few times, his vision going blurry.

"It's just a little drug to help you sleep," she said calmly. "Your neck might be a little sore when you wake up, but you'll... be... fine..."

Her voice grew quieter, as if she was walking a far distance away. He tried his best to stay awake, he really did, but he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, then felt his body hit the ground with a thud.

He was out cold.

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When Benjamin came to, he was sitting in a dark room, lit by dim light bulbs that hung by wires from the ceiling. He tried to move, only to realize that he was bound at his ankles, shins, thighs, upper torso, and wrists, with his hands placed in front of him on his lap. Not only was he being held by rope, but by at least three layers of duct tape. He was astounded at how well it held him. He looked at his bindings and realized that he could have gotten up, seeing as how he wasn't actually strapped to the chair in which he was seated, but he wouldn't have been able to get very far at all. His briefcase was nowhere in sight, and his watch had gone missing. What worried him most of all was that he was in clothes that were most definitely _not_ his. He didn't own any plaid button-up shirts, _or_ blue jeans, _or_ old cowboy boots. His suit was nowhere to be seen. So, not only did this Outlaw undress and redress him, but she searched his state-of-the-art security suit _very thoroughly_ to find the emergency escape button.

Ben hated admitting it, but... he was actually a little frightened... and slightly embarrassed... and actually rather furious.

He observed his surroundings, noting that he was underground. There wasn't much in the little hideaway. A few thick, wooden pillars held up the cube of dirt they hid in and the one doorframe nearby. A few barrels of gun powder and wine were lined against the wall, an 1876 Outlaw Revolver sitting atop one. There were some boxes of ammunition for old guns, cans of food lying around, an old mattress on a wooden frame, and in the next room over, he could hear, and smell, someone cooking something.

Just as he turned his head in the direction of the other room, Bazooka Jane entered the frame, towels and opened first aid kit in hand. She was clothed in dark jeans, her notorious cowboy boots, and a black men's wife beater. Her hair was slightly frizzed, and she was still unwashed from their fight earlier, a thin red line running across her right cheek bone. He took immediate notice of her left arm, which was heavily bandaged, but the blood-stained towel in Jane's hands gave away that this particular wound was not an easy clean up.

She looked at him, surprised, then broke out a wide grin.

"Well, slap me silly! I can't believe you're awake already!" She shook her head, continuing, "You AER Officials are tougher than I thought! Oh! Sorry about your fancy space suit thinger, but you can understand why I didn't keep you in it. Wouldn't be very beneficial to me, huh? But I gotcha some clothes from Slink... the bartender? He's always got random threads for strangers in need of 'em and whatnot. Kinda queer, right? But that's who Slink is, I s'pose. Always lookin' out for the needy and such."

Despite her chipper mood, Ben gave her the best, most defiant glare he could muster and said nothing. Jane seemed quite taken aback. "Nothin? Aw, well, that's my fault, seeing as how I was the one who knocked you out... and undressed ya..." Strangely enough, she seemed to slightly blush at this. "Uh... My apologies about the neck, partner, but, in all fairness, you started it. But hey! I gotcha a little bandage for the needle I stuck in you, I cleaned your cuts and whatnot, and I even gotcha an ice pack in the fridge for your shiner! Which is my fault too... Again, my apologies."

Now that he moved his neck some more, Ben did feel the square of gauze she had taped to his small puncture wound. He was astonished at how civil and calm this felon was being, but nevertheless, kept his reserve. She began to hum a small tune as she made her way around the room, putting away the kit and throwing the towel in the trash. She hopped up on one of the barrels, and started to take apart her gun with the intention of cleaning it.

"Don't s'pose you got a _real_ name with those fancy gadgets of yours?" she asked, trying to be casual about it. Ben was determined to stay mute. She glanced at him, seeing his steel reserve, and scowled. "Hey, don't look at me like that! _I'm_ the one who should be hatin' you right now. _You_ tried to kill me." She knitted her brow, thinking. "Hell, I shouldn't have even given you the chance." She turned her gaze towards him again, and Ben was shocked at how different she had become.

Cold... hateful... revolted...

He tried his best to match her intensity, and, after a moment, she heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. She shook her head, taking a few deep breaths. After another minute, she murmured, "Sorry, partner. Sometimes, the past won't let me go." For the life of him, Ben didn't understand what she was apologizing for, or even _why_ she was apologizing. Seeing an opportunity, he decided to say something.

"You might as well kill me, Jane."

The Outlaw stopped what she was doing for a moment, surprised. She looked up at him, eyebrows high, attitude taking a 180 degree turn. "He speaks!" Then a puzzled expression took over her features. "Did you just tell me to kill you?"

A nod.

She wore a bemused expression. "Kill you? Why in the world would I kill you?"

This left the young officer confused as well, and his facade began to fade. "... Because I've sworn an oath to the Alliance, and I won't be revealing any information to you... about anything."

She gave him a look. "Well, _yeah_, I figured you wouldn't." Noticing his rising confusion, she added, "I figured you wouldn't squeal a word after you shot me in the arm and almost set my hair aflame."

"...Then why did you capture me?"

"Cause you were trying to kill me!" She shook her head and sighed. "Good gravy, are all Alliance cops this strange?" When she didn't get a response, she shrugged her uninjured shoulder and continued to clean her gun. He heard her mumbling to herself, "Kill you. Pfft... Honestly, kill you... If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it hours ago when you were passed out. I mean, really. Is that what you all think of us?"

It took a moment for Ben to realize that last statement was directed towards him. Like before, he stayed silent. In return, the cowgirl rolled her eyes. "Well, that's a yes. Gosh darnit, no wonder the public is so afraid of us. You and your minions are all out brainwashin' 'em."

Ben's face hardened. "Then what exactly do you plan on doing with me, Jane?"

She paused, something registering in her mind. Then a smirk broke through. "I'm sorry... What's that you keep callin' me?"

For some reason, he felt incredibly stupid when he informed her that her own name was Jane, as in Bazooka Jane. There was another few seconds of silence, and then a snort. Suddenly, the woman burst into laughter.

"AHAHAHAHAHA! They actually took me seriously! BWAHAHAHAHA!" He felt his face burn with embarrassment as she waved her hand, shaking her head, still laughing. "HAHA! You- you actually thought m-my name was pffffft _B-Bazooka Jane_? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

By that time, Ben had obviously figured out that Bazooka Jane was some sort of alias, and felt incredibly dense for not realizing it sooner. He waited until the woman's laughs subsided, and she wiped some tears from her eyes.

"Well, now, Space Ranger, that's about the funniest thing I ever heard. I haven't laughed like that in ages." She smiled warmly, catching him completely off guard. "Thanks, partner."

Ben was bewildered. Bewildered and enchanted.

He watched her carefully as she inspected the handiwork done on her weapon, put it back together in seconds, loaded it with ammo from her pocket, spun the wheel, then placed it in her holster and hoped off her barrel. She let out a yawn as she stretched, which, Ben noticed, made her outfit hug her body in all the right places. He turned away, disgusted with himself, and willed the heat to drain from his cheeks. She started to hum again, exiting to the other room, and he heard her working on something. He wasn't sure what it was, but it smelled delicious. His stomach betrayed his iron will and began to rumble.

After a few minutes, she re-entered the room, two plates of white, steaming grub with buttered bread on the side in one hand, two mugs of hot liquid in the other. He noted that the plates were cracked and the designs faded, and the mugs were slightly dirty with chips on the rim. She set them down on a barrel, then dragged one over to it was sitting right in front of him. Then she placed a plate and mug on said barrel, leaving one of each for herself, took her seat on another barrel, and said, "Eat up!"

All he could do was stare. From the plate of... well, whatever it was, to the cup of liquid, then up to the Outlaw. She saw his staring and rolled her eyes.

"Alright, lookit," she said sternly. "I'm takin' you to the Sheriff, see? And that's a three days ride from here. The way I see it, you can do one of two things. One, be the prideful space cowboy you are, don't eat or drink, then pass out and die in the middle of the desert, for no good reason. Now, not only is that a lame way to die, but it's also easily preventable, seeing as how I am offering you food and drink, and will continue to offer it to you throughout the trip. OR, the second option, you can eat and drink and be conscious when I take you to the Sheriff. If you're thinking that he's going to kill you anyway, I'm tellin' you right now, he ain't that kinda person, so you're chances of survival are pretty damn good right now." She then shrugged her shoulders. "BUT that's all up to you. I'm not going to see you as a weaker person of _whatever_ if you eat my food. It's kinda what _normal, healthy_ individuals do. So just eat it, ok?"

He hated admitting it, but she was right. Hesitantly, he looked at the pile of food. "... What is it?"

The Outlaw smiled proudly. "Old family recipe. Mac n' Cheese! I didn't make the shells, but I made the sauce, and that's what makes it good. You'll see if you try it." She leaned in and lowered her voice some. "I even stole real milk from an express train headed to the city!"

Ben took the fork that was given to him, which was also dirty, and, for a split second, contemplated using it as a weapon. Maybe it was the mysterious Outlaw, or maybe it was his hunger, or maybe it was because he had seen this woman pull out a gun, aim, and fire, all within the span of .10 seconds... but Ben decided against the thought of attack, and instead piled some food into his mouth.

Seeing the look on his face, the Outlaw grinned. "Told ya so!"

They ate in silence, Ben enjoying the taste of real whole milk in the sauce, real butter on the bread, and real hot chocolate in the mug. He was sure this wasn't the only thing she had stolen from the previously stated Alliance train, but he didn't care. He hadn't eaten since the previous night, and the meal was actual quite fulfilling. Afterwards, as they were sipping their drinks, the Outlaw spoke.

"Well, it's late, and we need some shut eye before we roll out tomorrow." She paused. "You can stay up all night, thinkin' of ways to escape and whatnot, but I'm tellin' you right now, it'd better if you just sleep and try to escape tomorrow. I mean... you look like hell, partner."

Ben felt like hell. Well, the meal solved much of his problems, but he was still exhausted, bruised, and being held hostage by an Outlaw with an 1876 Revolver. He sighed, resigning himself to agree when he didn't want to... again.

The Outlaw nodded. "Well, go ahead and hobble on over to that bed. There are pillows, but I don't think you'll be needing much blankets. If you do, I'm right over here, _by the only exit_."

Ooo, she was good.

Ben nodded and was about to awkwardly hop to the bed before he stopped. He looked at the young woman, who was waiting, amusedly, for him to get to bed.

"I won't show you mercy when I escape this merely because you fed me."

She looked at him like he was mentally ill. "Again, you _shot_ me with a _laser_. _I get it, _cowboy."

He nodded, almost feeling... well, a little guilty. "What should I call you then?

"What should I call you?" she retorted.

Ben was quiet for a moment. A nickname couldn't hurt when he was banking on getting her real name out of it. "My friends call me Buzz."

The Outlaw made the same surprised face she made before, then slowly smiled. "A nickname, huh? Well... Better than _Larry_." She nodded her head, as if in approval. "I like it!" She waltzed over to him, and shook his tied hands with fervor. "Name's Jessie! And it's a pleasure to meet ya, Buzz!"

Ben was in awe. This woman was _nothing_ like he expected her to be. She was much more intelligent than he gave her credit for, and also much tougher than he thought she'd be. She was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and deadly accurate with her weapon. Still, she was somewhat sophisticated in a quirky sort of way, and, dare he say, friendly. Not only was she _far_ more alive and spirited than her picture suggested, but she was also... well, rather pretty.

He made a mental note to be extra careful around her for however long he was her prisoner.


	4. A Fine Day For Traveling

**A/N: Hola! I has more chapters. After this is where my writing is rocky at the moment, so I don't know how long it'll be until the next chapter, but I'll do my best! I promise! Meanwhile, enjoy and review!**

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Chapter 4: A Fine Day for Traveling

As habit, Jessie rose with the sun. She hadn't gotten much sleep, seeing as how she was anxious about keeping watch over her new prisoner and had stayed up late busily making preparations for travel the next day. She had never had a prisoner before. Well, maybe one or two, but never like this before. Never like him. Buzz was tough, mentally and physically. If it weren't for his bonds, he would have beat her into a pulp. That laser thing he had? It would have destroyed her.

As if on cue, her arm throbbed painfully, and Jessie touched her wound lightly, slight anger rising within her. This cowboy was smart and incredibly well-trained, that was a given... but how could he have just ignored her life like that? She knew Alliance Officials were brutal... she had first-hand experience...

It was a new wake-up call to the young Outlaw. Time didn't make people change. Cops still shot first and asked questions later. Cops still disregarded your life for the "better of peaceful human interaction." Cops still kept control at any cost necessary.

Jessie heaved a sigh, groggily walking around her hideout, blinking the sleep from her tired eyes and preparing to make coffee. She ran a hand through her undone auburn hair and mumbled useless things to herself. This was perhaps the only time of day that Jessie Albarn was not hyperactive, hence the reason she was so diligently working on making the long awaited caffeinated beverage. She boiled water over her semi-broken kerosene grill, then carefully poured it over the plastic funnel in which coffee ground and a filter sat in, and the drops of coffee fell into a large mason jar that was sitting on the other side of the grille. She inhaled the scent deeply, impatient to consume her drink.

She heard a noise from the other room as she poured the dark liquid into two chipped mugs. It appeared as though the space ranger was awake. She turned and entered the only other room of the hideout, setting the mug down on a barrel and watching her prisoner awake.

"Morning, partner!" She greeted as best she could with her fake, cheery grin. "Hope you like your coffee black."

The young man was already sitting up on the bed, scratching his head as best as he could with bound hands, yawning. He squinted at the mug, then looked at her. She saw the immediate, but almost invisible blush on his cheeks. She fidgeted, but chose to ignore him as she sat upon a separate barrel, running a hand through her long hair again. "Didja sleep alright?"

The official broke from his trance and nodded. "Yes...we all did. Myself and the numerous crawling creatures living in your bed."

She let out a small laugh, slightly surprised at his good sense of humor, but happy that he had spoken to her so easily. "Sorry about that. I keep forgettin' because I'm so used to it."

He sighed and hobbled awkwardly over to the chair, taking the coffee once he was seated. He made a face and shook his head after he took a sip. He exhaled with a whistle. "That's strong coffee." He nodded though. "_Good_ coffee."

Jessie smiled, pleased, and sipped her drink. So far so good. She just had to keep on her toes and not let her guard down. She finished her coffee quickly and began to work on putting her hair into her normal braid. She was struggling as she did so, hissing through the pain of her wound, but she was determined to do this deed by herself. "So, I was thinkin' we'd head out within the half hour, yeah? I already packed everythin' we need, includin' the food and all. Had to get an extra horse for you to ride on, but he's a friendly fella. Also, won't be stoppin' a whole lot on the trip, so get your business done before we move, know what I'm sayin'?" When she was close to being done her braid, she looked up at him, only to find him staring once more. It was her turn to blush. "What?" He blinked, then cleared his throat and shook his head. Another moment of awkward silence, and Jessie finished her work, saying, "Well... bathroom's outside, so let's move. You ready?"

He gave her a look, then looked around the underground space, as if to say, "It's not like I had much to _get_ ready."

Jessie couldn't help but laugh when she saw Buzz struggling to get out of the hideout. She imagined it was incredibly difficult to climb a ladder out of a small hole in his bindings. As he was nearing the top, she reached out a hand to offer him, and, after another moment of stubborn exertion, he begrudgingly caved. She took his bound hands and yanked, him jumping to help her out. Being a built man, he was heavy, and Jessie nearly flew backwards when the two of them landed on the ground outside. She let out her yodel and slapped her knee. Buzz, on the other hand, continued to grumble and scowl.

"Alrighty, partner," she said, dusting herself off. Then she unsheathed her knife, grinning evilly at him. She nearly broke her reserve when she saw how white Buzz's face went.

"Wh-what are you doing with that?"

"Oh relax. I'm only cuttin' your ties, silly space man."

Buzz was tense all throughout the cutting, especially when she reached the binds at his thighs. Yes, Jessie did contemplate being maniacal and playing a prank, or maybe even hurting him so they'd be on even terms... but she didn't. She cut everything but his hands, then helped him up, and walked over to the extra horse she has managed to borrow from Slink. A beautiful, white Fjord. "This is Buttercup."

Buzz looked incredibly awkward approaching the creature. He reached out and patted the neck, just as she was doing. "Uh... good girl?" The was a loud snort from the horse, causing Buzz to stumble back in nervousness.

Jessie was smirking. "It's a boy. And he says to be careful." Buzz looked at her like she expected; like she had five heads. She shrugged, then listened for a quick second to another snort from the animal. "Hey, be nice, or no sugar cubes for you." Instantly, the horse licked Jessie's face. She laughed and rubbed his nuzzle. "Kiss ass."

It took a moment to help Buzz into the saddle, but they got it. She whistled for Bullseye, taking only a few seconds to climb onto him, much to Buzz's jealousy. From there, she tied Buzz's bound hands to the horn on Buttercup's saddle, then tied a rope from Bullseye's saddle horn, to Buttercup's reigns.

"Buttercup's the one who's packed with all the medical needs and our clothes," she explained. "I'm the one with the food and water, understand?" He nodded. She gave him a toothy grin, donned her black, wide brimmed hat, triple checked her pistols and ammo in her pockets, and checked for her lasso in her bag.

Then they were off.

x*x*x*x

For a while in his establishment, things were relatively quiet. The Sheriff sat in the back office, the room behind the kitchen of A&B's Saloon, thinking to himself. He was going through files and blueprints and tiresome orders of the Outlaw operation, when he realized that the noise level was at a minimum. He stopped his work and held on to the moment. He breathed, and suddenly mused about his cousin...

Of course the silence didn't last. There was a loud bang, the sound of something shattering, and foul words hanging in the air, all within the span of five seconds. The normally smooth British voice sounded from the kitchen, only, at the moment, it was deep and growling.

"_Damn_ you, misbegotten rampallian skansmates! Can you not perform the _simplest_ actions?"

"Don't call me a skansmate!" A juvenile's voice yelled.

"Yeah, _you're_ the skansmate!" That was a high-pitched one.

"Yeah! Skinsnake!" An identical one agreed.

"Moron, it's skansmate!"

"Don't call me a moron, sanksnate!"

An irritated British voice interjected, "You imbeciles don't even know what a skansmate is!"

There was a pause. "So? We know it's bad!"

The Sheriff sighed heavily, but pulled himself out of his chair and stuck his head out of the doorway. "Pricklepants, this had better be good!"

Everyone around had fondly deemed the head chef Pricklepants due to his uptight mannerisms, the fact that he always quoted Shakespeare, and thought he was an actor despite only being a cook in a bar. Pricklepants immediately pointed to the three 16-year-old kids (the Pea children) standing beside him. "Look at what these ruffians have done to my good dish-ware!" Indeed, there was a pile of broken plates splattered on the floor.

"Fool," Pete mumbled to his sister, Beatrice. "It's a bar. Nothing here is good dish-ware."

"What was that!"

"Uh oh, you got him all mad, Petey," Penelope said with a giggle.

The Sheriff leaned on the frame, finding the scene humorous. "And which one of you managed to break that many plates?" Beatrice pointed at Penelope, Penelope pointed at Beatrice, and Petey pointed to both of them. The Sheriff threw back his head and laughed.

"You can not simply shrug this matter off!" Pricklepants huffed. "I demand a punishment be given to these... these..."

"Snakeskans?" Penelope offered.

"Skanstates," Beatrice corrected.

"Skansmate! It's skansmate, you idiotic, barbaric-!"

"Enough!" The Sheriff interrupted, still smirking. "Pricklepants, just use the other dishes, and I'll get you some new ones tomorrow." The Peas smiled and Pricklepants scowled. "Peas, I'll be paying for new dishes with the money I'm taking out of your pay this week." A simultaneous "Aw man!" arose from the three siblings, but the Sheriff gave them a look. They closed their mouths. "What do you kids say to Mr. Prickle?"

"We're sorry, Mr. Pricklepants," the three unenthusiastically mumbled in unison.

The Sheriff nodded. "Now clean this mess up and get back to work. I'm kind of busy today, alright?"

The present company nodded and the Sheriff returned to his office. He closed the door and sank into his chair, exhaling tiredly. He really didn't want to get back to work, but being head of a highly illegal anti-Alliance operation didn't exactly pay the bills. Still, there were plans to be made, schematics analyzed, profiles inspected-

_Knock, knock, knock._

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, beckoning the stranger in with an annoyed call. As soon as the door opened, however, the Sheriff straightened up and held his tongue. Breathtaking turquoise eyes greeted his gaze.

"Sorry, Mr. Pride," came the angelically smooth voice of Miss Bo Peep. "Is this a bad time to take my break?"

"Not at all," the Sheriff replied with a playful leer. "Though you should know by now that Mr. Pride was my father."

The young woman batted her eyelashes as she said, "Very well then, Sheriff."

There were few things in this world that the Sheriff would kill for. Bo Peep happened to be number one. He wasn't sure if there was a prettier girl in the entire universe. She could be in her work wear, which consisted of a frontal-laced corset, a polka-dotted skirt that was short in the front, heels with even more laces, and a big feather in her braided bun, _all_ colored pink. Or she could be in her normal long skirt, button up collared shirt, and bonnet. Hell, she could be clad in sweatpants. The Sheriff didn't care. She was, and continued to be, the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And he liked Bo for other reasons too! Though she had the tendency to be quiet, she was quick, smart, witty. She was a constant surprise in both dealing with customers, drawbacks, and, more importantly, himself. She was kind-hearted and affectionate. Loyal, honest, mature. She was everything the Sheriff could ever want, and everything the Sheriff always needed.

No, there weren't a lot of things that would make Sheriff Woodrow Pride go off his rocker, but Bo Peep was _definitely_ number one.

Bo closed the door behind her, sighing with relief. "It's slow as hell out there today. I'm so bored I could cry." The Sheriff stood from his chair, pulling out a handkerchief and offered her both the cloth and resting place. Seeing this, Bo laughed and waved it away, saying, "You're such a gentleman, Sheriff."

"I always aim to be, ma'am," was his reply as he sat back down and Bo walked over to his desk.

"So," she said slowly. "What kind of dastardly plans are you up to now?"

The Sheriff let out a 'hmph.' "Nothing dastardly here, Bo. Just busy work, as usual."

She nodded. "Any word from Jessie?"

He shook his head. "I was thinking of her earlier. Haven't heard anything yet, though she did say she'd only get in contact if she had problems. So I'm assuming the deal went off without a hitch." Bo gave him a look, and he shrugged. "Well... as much as things can with Jessie running around." He sighed again and carelessly moved a few papers around on his desk. "I hate work."

Bo looked him up and down, worry tainting her pretty features. "You look tired, Woody."

The Sheriff smiled genuinely at her. "Now _there's_ a name I miss hearing."

Bo broke into a simper and walked behind his back. "What, Woody? I believe I call you that everyday."

He felt her tiny hands dig into his tight shoulders, and he began to relax. "Yeah, but it's different."

"What is?" she asked.

He chose his words carefully. "Around here, I'm always _Sheriff_. I'm always in command and doing the whole 'leader' thing. It's only when you and me are home; well, our little shack of a home anyway, when I can let all that go and just be _normal_. I'm only Woody when I'm with you, Bo."

Her slender arms slid down around his chest, and her head rested on his shoulder. "Oh, Woody," she cooed, and he felt the heat in her cheeks on his own face. "You're too much for me."

"On the contrary, ma'am," he said, reaching back to snake an arm around her waist and guide her to his lap. He looked into her eyes. "I believe you're too much for me."

Bo removed his hat and set it on the desk. Now she was just teasing him. "No, am I?"

Woody couldn't help but grin as he reached up and twirled his finger in one of her thick curls. "You're fishing for compliments now, Miss Peep."

"And what if I am?"

"Isn't there a saying that flattery won't get a person anywhere?"

"Yes... but I never said anything of that sort."

"Well then, yes. Yes, you are."

They smiled at each other, and Bo gently touched his cheek.

"**Damnit** all to the bloody bowels of hell!" With a bang, the door swung open and Pricklepants stormed in, followed by the Peas. "Sheriff! Sheriff! The Peas have done it for the last time!"

"It was Penelope this time!"

"It was all you, Petey!"

"I don't give a damn which one of you wretched dimwits it was!"

"Why is he always so mean to us anyway?"

"We just-! ... _Oh_."

It was only then did the party realize what they had walked in on. All four of them flushed red and froze. After a moment, the apologies and stammering began. Normally either Bo or the Sheriff would have blushed and stuttered and sprang away from the other, embarrassed, making awful excuses that no one ever bought. This time, though, the two lovers simply glared, unimpressed and most definitely ungrateful.

"Prickle," Sheriff said sternly, cutting off all words. "Please get out of my office."

"Yes! Yes, of course!" He grabbed Penelope and Beatrice by the ears and kicked Petey out of the room.

"Oh, and Prickle?" Sheriff called. The chef looked back. "Shut the door."

x*x*x*x

With miles of sand stretched before them, it wasn't long before Jessie was half bored to death. She didn't mind lengthy trips when she was on trains, and she actually enjoyed trips with Bullseye because they'd see how fast they could ride. This trip was different, though, seeing that they had a... _vessel_ to haul around.

As if on cue, Buzz let out an audible sigh. He shifted in his saddle, uncomfortable. Jessie called back to ask if he was alright, and he responded with, "Am I supposed to feel this... chaffing?"

Jessie let out a snort. "You _Alliance_ folk ain't used to riding horses, huh?"

"Will you stop saying it like that?" Buzz grumbled, annoyed. "The Alliance thing? It makes us sound like we're diseased."

"Might as well be," Jessie mumbled to herself. Then louder, "Didn't mean to offend you, partner. I mighta been a bit nicer to ya if you didn't shoot half my damn arm off." He grew quiet at that. They must've gone half an hour to forty-five minutes without speaking again.

It was hot that day, as it usually tended to be in the middle of the Wastes, which consisted of deserts, a few scant grasslands, and a mirage every now and then. The sky was open and blueish gray, and without the shade of clouds, the sun beat down on the duo. At least the breeze was plentiful and cool that day. Jessie wasn't sweating as much as she normally would under her black clothing. Another gust of wind picked up, and Jessie decided to remove her hat, letting the somewhat harsh air current whip her face. She heard Buttercup whinnying behind her. She looked back, inspecting the state of her hostage, guilt instantly flooding her senses. His cheeks were red from sunburn and lack of hydration, a few beads of sweat trickling down his face. He looked like he was getting the hang of the horse riding, but every now and then, he'd wince in pain.

Jessie shrank into herself a bit. What kind of person was she anyway? Promising to keep him alive and in good condition... and here he was... miserable. Jess turned Bullseye around, stopping Buttercup. Buzz looked at her, warily.

"I'm afraid I should apologize to you," she said, embarrassed. She began to rummage around in a bag tied to Buttercup's side. "I ain't been a good captor to ya. I'll fix it though, I swear!" Buzz watched her, too confused and shocked to try anything. She found the sunscreen spray and held her hands over Buzz's eyes, skin just barely touching skin. "Close your eyes, ranger." And she applied the lotion, spraying and then rubbing it into his face and reddened cheeks. As she was doing this, she felt the heat emanating from him. He was burning up! She gasped. "Don't go gettin' heat stroke on me now, partner! Here!" She untied one of eight canteens on Bullseye and, very swiftly, took out her knife and cut his bound wrists. She shoved the container into his freed hands, continuing to usher the drink to his lips.

There was a very brief, very awkward moment after Buzz drank where they both stared at each other, and realized that Buzz was now free. Jessie blinked, but, with the speed of lightening, sheathed her knife and brought out her gun, barrel touching the tip of Buzz's nose. He gulped, and the two stayed frozen for a minute.

"... S-sorry," she rushed, uneasy. "I wasn't... It's... just kind of a habit."

Buzz slowly lowered the canteen to his lap. "Is this, uh... mine?" Jessie nodded and he nodded to. He placed the strap over his shoulder. That was when Jessie noticed the bruises on his wrists. Acting out of instinct again, she grabbed his arm, horrified.

"Sweet honey and molasses!" Anger swelled in her stomach. "God damn the day I was ever given duct tape! If I had known my bonds were that tight... just lookit them bruises! Why, you're black and blue! If I ain't the worst kinda person..." Jessie glared at his hands, taking a moment to scold herself, but to calm down lest she slapped her own face.

Buzz took this opportunity to clear his throat. "Well... that's what bonds are meant to do."

She shook her head. "They ain't supposed to give you bruises like that."

He let out a puff of air. "I've had worse than this."

She looked up at him. "Don't make no difference."

"Are... are you serious right now?" She lifted an eyebrow, and he cringed. "That was a dumb question." He tried again. "I think you're being a little irrational. The purpose of binds are to restrain. If the binds aren't tight, they aren't doing their job. How else are you supposed to keep me in check as a hostage?"

Jessie lowered her eyes back to his wrists, letting go, but she continued drawing her fingers lightly across the damaged skin. "Those are kind words, partner, but I ain't just an Outlaw, and you ain't just an Official. You an' me are human beings, and I should treat you as such. I'm sorry, Buzz." She looked back into his eyes, determined to show this man, even if he was a cold-blooded killer, that she was not. She respected life and had no intention of treating him like an animal.

He looked completely stupefied. His mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. "I-I... You... What... How...?"

Concern rose within her, and she placed her free hand to Buzz's forehead. "You're not gettin' sick, are you?" Buzz clamped his mouth shut, and Jessie wasn't sure this time if he was red because of the sunburn or because he was flustered.

Bullseye snorted and back-trotted, taking both people by surprise and jarring his owner. He bounced his head up and down, and Jessie took hold of his reigns. "Bullseye, what the devil is the matter with you?" He whinnied, and suddenly it was Jessie's turn to be flustered. "Wh-what? I was not!" He turned his head to her. "We weren't! Will you quit being such a nosy-!"

Buzz cleared his throat loudly, shutting them up. He took a moment, then said, "Since you've been honest with me, I will be honest with you. I still have a job to do, and that's to bring you into the Alliance. So, not to take out the element of surprise and all... but if you're not going to tie me up, how do you intend on keeping me in control?"

Jessie was appalled. The dynamite stick that was her short temper sparked. "What the hell are you sayin'!" He jumped a little. "Can't you just be a good little space ranger and follow me to the Sheriff's without a knock-down-drag-out?" She should have figured she wouldn't get the answer she wanted. Even after everything she had done for him, even after a sincere apology, and that talk about being humans... his reserve was still hard as steel. She should have known. She should have known that deep down inside, he was still an AER official. And once an Alliance member, always an Alliance member. The fuse to her stick ran out, and Jessie exploded. "The _nerve_ of you! The god damned audacity! If I had acted any other way, I would expect it! But I didn't! I treated you with dignity and respect! I apologized for my screw ups! Are all you _AER Officials_ like this? Huh? Ain't one of you got at least _some_ smarts in ya? Or is it just _you_ that's got no sense? I didn't _have_ to be nice, you know! I didn't _have_ to be civil! I didn't _have_ to give you _my bed_, or getcha your own horse, or a change your clothes, or feed you! Hell, I didn't even have to give you _water_ if I didn't want to!"

Buzz was quiet for a second, then he spoke in a quiet, but stern voice. "I never asked for your kindness, Outlaw."

She was going to kill him.

Oh, she was going to _kill_ him!

She was literally about to cock the hammer and blast his stupid blue eyes to the back of his skull! She was ready to commit murder of the first degree for the first time in her life-!

When suddenly, everything stopped.

Bullseye and Buttercup had their ears against their necks, looking off to the left with anticipation. Jessie wasn't speaking anymore, hardly breathing. Even the buzzards had stopped crowing. Something wasn't right.

Buzz blinked, confused, and looked around, clueless. "What-?"

"Shh!" She silenced him. Everything was quiet... except for one thing. The wind. The _howling_ wind. That's when Jessie followed Bullseye's gaze. What she saw made her stomach churn.

A wall of dust loomed over the horizon. A dark, brown, debris-filled _wall_.

"Ah, shit."


	5. Meanwhile, in the Desert

**A/N: Wow, it's been a while. My b, people, my b. Please enjoy though! I was stuck on this chapter, and I think I finally got it right, after so many writer's blocks and rewrites! Tell me what you think! P.S. Just discovered the "Meanwhile in X" Hilarious. My tribute title is to those pictures.**

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Chapter 5: Meanwhile, in the Desert

Benjamin turned his head into the wind's path. Even through watery and squinted eyes, he knew what a sandstorm looked like. He felt the color drain from his face, and goose bumps rose on his arms. If he had his briefcase, this wouldn't be a problem, but he hadn't seen his expensive Alliance wear since he and this _felon_ were in a tumble in the first place. He looked around, the horses becoming frantic.

There was nowhere to go.

Jessie swore loudly as Bullseye reared up. She didn't even hesitate to fire a round at the thick hemp rope that bound the two together, which made Buttercup jump. Ben grabbed the reins, mostly in order to not fall off the horse. "Time to go, partner!" Jessie pointed her gun at the sky and shot another round into the air, spooking his horse into a run. Ben yelled, bouncing up and down in the saddle, heading towards only open space. He was about to try and stop the crazed animal, but Jessie rode up along side of him.

"We ain't got time to argue anymore!" She shouted over the wind. "Follow me if you wanna live, cowboy!" Then she let out this strange battle cry, snapping the reins and pushing her horse forward, faster.

Ben mimicked her actions without thinking, and Buttercup moved into a full on gallop. Together, the two rode with the wind; rode for their life. He managed to glance behind him, noticing that the wall of sand was growing closer. No matter how fast they were going, the wind was somehow faster. He wondered if their efforts would end up in vain.

"Where are we going!" Ben shouted, not seeing much of anything out in the middle of the desert, except for maybe a few hills of sand taller than the others.

"See that bump on the horizon?" Jessie hollered back. "Just beyond is a big ol' landmark of solid rock! There's a little cave we can hole ourselves in till the storm settles!"

Ben glanced back again. "I don't really think we'll make it in time!"

Jessie looked back at him, and he saw a flash of something dangerous in her eyes, almost as if she was accepting a bet. "Well, then! Maybe you shouldn't think and just ride!"

Ben bit his tongue, cursing everything he could think of. His luck, his stupidity, the Wastes, the sand, this damned Outlaw. He didn't even care about the job anymore. Once he made it to the Sheriff, he'd reconsider his choices in life. Maybe he'd just retire... well, assuming that he made it to the Sheriff _alive_.

Though, now that he thought about it, they weren't as far from the hill as he thought they were. Either that or their horses were remarkably quick. Not much further now. He looked back again, then immediately cried out. That wall was no father than 100 meters from their asses. And on top of that, Buttercup was running as fast as he could. The poor creature wasn't meant for speed. Jessie looked back as well, then hurriedly fired another two bullets into the air. The cracks must have been the last push his horse needed, because Buttercup whinnied, his pupils dilating with fright, and bolted. Ben was barely able to hold on.

Actually... he kind of didn't.

The next thing he knew, Buttercup had unexpectedly jumped the last stretch of the journey, propelling him upwards as they all sprang over the hill, then down... _way_ down. At first, he hit the sand, the particulates cutting into his face, but he rebounded, toppling over himself, and continuing to fall. The next surface he hit was not as soft, but in fact rather hard. A string of swear words left his mouth as he rolled a bit more with the momentum, another nice hard surface finally putting him to a halt. The breath was knocked out of him, and he was momentarily paralyzed, opening his eyes only to see grey spots and small sparkles of light.

"Buzz!" he heard Jessie calling for him from nearby. "Buzz, hang on!"

As he was beginning to regain his sight, he felt a pair of strong hands under his arms, yanking him sideways. The wind wasn't hitting his face anymore, and was actually beginning to sound distant. After a minute or so of grunts and being dragged into more darkness, he was placed against another wall. He blinked hard a few times, but still couldn't see much. He managed to see a fiery red braid run around a corner, into a grey light. He tried taking deep breaths, coughing when he realized that there was some sand in his mouth.

Jessie came back, tugging the two terrified horses behind her. She was grumbling, "Come on, critters! We're right here!" Once she was in the safety of the alcove though, she changed tactics and calmed down. "Shhh. Hush now, darlings, it's alright. I'm right here, see? We're alive, ok? Shhh, everything is just fine." Remarkably, the animals quieted. Though there was another snort and stomp from Buttercup. "I'm sorry I fired my gun atcha, boy. I really am. I needed to make sure Buzz was gettin' to safety."

Ben looked at the Outlaw, eyes adjusting slowly to the dark. For a while, no one said anything. They just listened to the wind howling outside. Ben focused on breathing, knowing that, once again, his ass was saved by a wanted criminal... and he wasn't exactly happy with that. He kept a wary eye on her as she pet the horses, gave them water, then settled her gaze upon him.

"You ok, cowboy?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

He nodded, and she went back to Bullseye. He ran a hand through his dusty hair, mind still reeling over what had just happened. He figured, under the circumstances, he could have been a _little_ nicer. He had no idea where he was, no food or water of his own, and no way to get home. Yet despite everything, this complete stranger hadn't hesitated to feed him, clothe him, and take care of him. She had put him before the horses. Hell, she had _apologized_ to him for being a bad captor...

After a moment, Ben stood, knowing what he had to do. Begrudgingly, he walked over to Jessie, who was holding onto Bullseye's neck rather tightly. He exhaled, then extended a hand to her. "I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my life back there. I... wouldn't have made it without your help. So... thank you."

Jessie didn't move. She didn't respond to his sentiment at all. Ben awkwardly lowered his arm. He shifted his weight, uneasy with the fact that this made him feel guilty. He forced himself to try again. "I'm sorry... For what I said earlier." She made no response at this. "... Honestly, you're one of the... nicest captors to have ever held me hostage... I'm... It's all very new to me. I wasn't expecting you to... I don't know... I just... I'm sorry, alright?"

Still nothing. It was then that Benjamin got the innate feeling that something was very wrong with the normally loud, rambunctious cowgirl. He swallowed, but ventured to put a hand on her shoulder. She jumped away from him, scaring both Bullseye and Ben. When he looked at her, he saw something different from the Outlaw he knew. This was... a little girl. She hadn't even pulled out her gun.

"Get away, Buzz," she said, her voice alarmingly weak and missing its tell-tale edge.

If Ben was clueless before, he was now absolutely helpless. "Are you... alright?"

Jessie was trying hard not to breathe heavily, her hands making themselves busy by tugging at her hair. "Not really, Buzz, no. So jus' go on back to sittin' over there and let me be."

Ben found that he didn't much like this version of Jessie. It's not that he was offended, he was just completely taken aback. He had seen this woman get shot in the arm with his laser, punched in the gut, cut, bruised, insulted, and she stood tall after all of it better than a grown man would. And here she was, shrinking back against everything, as if the entire world was closing in around her.

"This is... kind of alarming," he said before he could stop himself. "How am I supposed to act like an AER Official when your personality just took a complete 180?"

Jessie simply looked at him. Why did she look as useless as he felt? "... If I tell you, you'll use it against me."

Well, he wasn't expecting _that_. He took a moment to think. Yes, the knowledge of Bazooka Jane's weakness could really help with effective information extraction. But seeing the paralyzing fear in this woman's eyes made Ben's heart pound against his ribs. Whether it was from shame or something else, he wasn't sure. However, one thought rang loud and clear in his conscience: He never wanted to see Jessie like this ever again. It was too... too strange, too unclear, too... painful?

"Jessie," he said, his volume matching hers. "I am sworn under oath to tell the Alliance any number of things. If I don't, I loose everything... But _Larry_, on the other hand... Larry isn't even real. If you tell Larry something, he won't have to tell anyone. He is the creation of someone's imagination, therefor can not speak, but anything that Larry knows doesn't hold substance because Larry and Larry's brain don't exist... Do you understand?"

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "... I... I don't believe you."

He wasn't sure why he felt so horrible at hearing those words, but she had made her decision. Ben exhaled and nodded, then slowly returned to his spot against the wall. He watched her water the horses, the shaking of her hands not unseen. He sighed and began fiddling with a rock at his feet. He'd toss it in the air and catch it. Then he started scratching the floor with it, just to see if he could. By about the third stick drawing, he noticed the pair of boots right in front of him. He looked up at the Outlaw, who was holding onto her own arms like they were her last grip onto life. Her face was white.

"Larry?" she whispered.

Ben gulped, trying to force his heart to stop beating so quickly lest it should pop out of his chest and bleed all over the cave bottom. "Yes?"

Jessie bit her lip, fidgeting. "I'm..." Was she trembling? "I don't... like the dark very much."

_Oh._

He blinked. "... You're afraid of the dark?"

She shut her eyes tightly and sank to the ground, as if she thought she was going to explode. "Yes... it only gets bad when I'm in small spaces though... like this here."

He thought for a moment. "We could light a fire."

"With what?" she asked, scared and miserable.

"You still have my business suit, don't you?"

He was surprised when she gave a small snort, "I'm not gonna burn your suit."

"No," he started. "But that suit was specially tailored and made for me. It has an illumination feature."

She picked her head up and looked at him like he was crazy. "... You're suit _glows_?"

"It's designed to be undetectable police wear," he explained. "It really only slows down bullets, is fireproof, and has that light feature. My body shield does that and is far more efficient, but seeing as how you probably didn't bring that along, we can just use the suit."

Jessie was stunned. "That's rather impressive technology you got."

Knowing what she was hinting at, Ben shrugged. "We've put the best of the best people in charge of the technology department."

The cowgirl glared at him, but decided against a challenge. She stood, carefully, taking deep breaths, and Ben had the sudden urge to get up and help her. She slowly made her way to Bullseye, each step seeming to carry just a hint of pain. She dug around in a bag, pulled something out, and flung it at him. As he caught it, he heard the click of the hammer of her gun.

"No funny business," she declared. He was slightly impressed with how calm she sounded.

He fiddled around with the bundle of cloth, until he reached an inside pocket and felt a certain, tiny trigger. He pulled and was quickly blinded by the white light his suit provided. He blinked, tossing it on the ground in front of him, then holding up his hands for Jessie to see. The light wasn't incredibly strong, but it was enough.

"There."

Jess stood still for a moment, then began to breath normally. She looked at him, then to the suit, then back at him. At last, a small smile stretched her lips, and she laughed a little. She shook her head and moved towards him, taking a seat. She relaxed, the fear and shaking now nowhere to be seen. Ben, relieved at seeing the old Outlaw back to herself, leaned back, keeping his eyes on the mesh of fiber-optics and fabric. Well, until Jessie said his name, then he looked over at her, his breath catching when he saw the dancing light reflecting in her eyes.

"Thank you."

_Uh oh_. "... You're welcome."

She offered him a small smile. "Perhaps the tin man's got a heart after all."

Oh, he was in trouble.

x*x*x*x

The sandstorm was followed by a rain storm, which brought with it thunder and lightening. Ben stood next to Jessie at the opening of the cave, frowning. With the storms, he had no idea how much their schedule had been cut back. Though Jessie said they actually weren't too far. Due to their small detour, they had gone halfway through a shortcut. She said the rain wouldn't last too long. With any luck, it'd be over in an hour or so, and they'd be on their way. If they traveled quickly, they'd still be able to reach the pit stop by dark.

She took a seat right there, shedding her black coat and extending her bare arms into the rain. A soft, warm breeze was blowing against them, and Ben looked out in the grey landscape. He wondered how far from civilization he really was.

"What's on your mind, space ranger?" Jessie asked, bringing him to attention.

He spared her a glance, but continued to look out into the distance. "Just thinking of the AER. They might send a few men after me once they realize I've gone missing."

"You're a lousy liar," she hummed, unfazed.

He was only slightly impressed. "Yes, well... I wasn't trying very hard."

"Uh huh." She turned her arms over, watching the droplets fall over her exposed skin. "Lemme guess... you were thinkin' about home?" Ben shoved his hands in his pockets, opting to stay quiet. She looked at him, then back out, heaving a sigh. "And here I thought we were makin' some real progress."

He thought for a moment, then said, "I'll tell you something if you tell me something."

Jessie paused, looking intrigued. She lowered her arms back into the cave, then leaned back on them. "Alrighty then. What're you lookin' to know exactly?"

Feeling lucky, he asked, "Where did you learn to fire a gun like that?"

She smiled proudly. "Milly taught me everything I know. Uncle Andy showed me a few tricks, as did my cousin, but aside from that, it was all Milly. Your turn."

_So female gunslingers ran in the family_, Ben mused, assuming Milly was either a parent or a sibling. "The only family I have is my father, who is head Securer of Peace under the Alliance. I don't see him very often, though. He's a very busy man."

"Is that why you became a member of the AER?"

He shrugged. "More or less. What were you in town for?"

She shrugged as well, flicking at a pebble. "Business matters. Picking up supplies of sorts. How long you been with the Regime?"

"Twelve years," he answered, not knowing why such a thing would interest her.

This seemed to shock her. "Twelve years? Hell, you can't be much older than me!"

"I'm 29," he said, confused as to why she was making a fuss. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been in the Regime since you were 17?"

"Yes. I started in the junior training program when I was 14."

"Lord almighty," she whispered to herself.

Ben cleared his throat, unsettled. "How long have you been an Outlaw?"

Jessie shook her head though. "No. I don't want to know anythin' else."

"Well that's hardly fair," He protested, irritated. "Why don't you want to know more? Because you think the AER was my entire life? Because you think I have nothing else to talk about?"

She looked up at him in opposition. "Prove me wrong."

He gritted his teeth. "First of all, I don't think there is anything wrong with being heavily involved with my job, most especially since it involves upholding the Law. Second of all, I have other interests besides catching criminals. I'll have you know that I am quite the skilled mechanic. When I was younger, all I wanted to do was work with automobiles and machinery."

The cowgirl looked genuinely surprised. "So why didn't you become a mechanic?"

He shut his mouth momentarily, unaware of when the conversation had become this personal. "W-well... that wasn't really good enough for my father. He wanted me to become someone important. So he enrolled me in the Academy." She kept her eye on him, but he refused to look at her. He scratched the back of his neck. "Stop that. It's rude to stare."

She blinked, then smiled. "My apologies, ranger." She looked outside the cave once more, then said, "Momma always wanted me to become someone important too. She thought I'd be a great veterinarian someday."

"Didn't you go to school?"

"Yeah, well... I had problems with authoritative figures," she said, smiling sheepishly. "Plus, I stopped goin' to school when I was nineteen."

"Why is that?"

She grew intensely quiet at this, her face hardening and the familiar flash of anger striking in her eyes. "... No reason."

Startled by the sudden turn-around, Ben tried to change the subject. "Why did you choose sharp-shooting?"

This seemed to distract her. She lifted her eyebrows, thinking. "Well... I dunno... It's effective, practical, cleaner than a knife, though I know how to use those too." Ben noted the sly tone of her semi-threat. "I mean, there's somethin' real nice about being dead accurate with a weapon that's deemed outdated. To be good with an old gun, you have to be very well-trained. I feel much more prepared an' dangerous with my weaponry... Plus-" She flashed him a smirk. "I couldn't get by on just my good looks. Girl's gotta learn to do somethin' useful nowadays."

"That's why you should stay in school," Ben pointed out.

Jessie snorted. "Thanks, mom."

He let out a quiet chuckle. "What about your dad?"

She rolled her eyes, responding with, "My father's a dick."

Ben's breath hitched in his throat, and he coughed, surprised. "What?"

"He was never around when I was a kid 'cause of the divorce," she explained. "But whenever he showed up, he kept tryin' to send me off to this boarding school overseas. He was an inconsiderate, impatient, loud, fat ball of grease."

He nodded and chose not to speak. She heaved a sigh, then, with a new question, turned to him and asked, "Ain't ya got any friends back home?"

Ben made a face. "Why would I need friends?"

He really should have expected it, by that point in time, but she reacted with such fervor that it caught him off guard. "WHY! Why? Because, Buzz! You _need_ people! You need someone to have your back, someone to be there when you need them the most. You need someone to laugh with, to cry with!"

"I'm doing quite well on my own," he pointed out.

"But it's not the same!" she pushed. "You need a friend to solidify who you are when they're not around, and exaggerate you to your best qualities when they are. You need s friend to break down the walls you put up. Hell, you need a friend just so half of the time, you're not talking to yourself."

Personally, Ben wasn't in the mood to be lectured. He decided he didn't need the drama or the unnecessary weight or stress that relationships provded. He had a friend, once, but that ended horribly, and since then, Ben was alone by choice. With tight lips, he snapped, "Forgive me, but I've never been fond of clichés."

He instantly regretted it.

Jessie stopped cold, taken aback and insulted. For a moment, Ben thought she would just shoot him. She opened hr mouth, as if to say something... but she stopped once more, then turned and looked back out at the rain.

Even though he felt as if he had been too harsh, Ben was under the impression that, due to past experiences, he had a right to be bitter. So he made up his mind that he wouldn't apologize.

He wouldn't.

He had done nothing wrong. Actions: justified. Rights: approved.

...

No, seriously.

...

"Ok, ok, stop!" he blurted out, breaking the silence. Jessie didn't look at him, but he saw her raise an eyebrow.

Pained, Ben tried to think of the right thing to say. This woman had some sort of moral power over him, and, try as he might, he actually... maybe... _sort of _appreciated her existence. It was purely the fact that she had been such a different captor! Ben had never met captors who had treated him humanely. He was confused, that was all...

... But, still...

"I... I'm sorry. I had... I had a bad experience..." He fell silent, having nothing else to say.

The air held a sort of tension, thick with secrets. Neither was sure how much time had passed, but the rain was slowing down when Jessie finally stood up. With purpose, she turned, looked Ben right in the eye, and slowly, carefully, extend her hand towards him. He found himself completely paralyzed as he watched her hand open and close gently on his shoulder. She squeezed it firmly, never breaking eye contact.

And, even though Ben knew he was undoubtedly insane for thinking so... he could tell that Jessie was sorry simply by looking into her eyes.

They spent several minutes like that, staring at each other, until Jessie offered him a small smile. "I understand, partner," she said quietly, as if she feared her voice would ruin something. She then let go of his shoulder, stood up, and turned heel to tend to the horses.

Ben watched her go, crazily thinking that this outlaw was some sort of goddamned temptress who had the capabilities to enchant him with powerful love spells... but that was nonsense.


	6. An Informational Ride

**A/N: Finally fixed up this chapter. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 6: An Informational Ride

Jessie scowled when she caught sight of her bandaged wound. It didn't look bad, but Jessie could feel, at times, blood loss from the open tear on her arm. She knew she would have to change it eventually, but she didn't know when she'd have a chance to be away from her hostage... and, on that train of thought, Jessie couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit accomplished about her conversations with Buzz. She was beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, past the blind faith in the Alliance, past the high-tech space suit and impressively-sized pectoral muscles... maybe Buzz was warming up to her.

She glanced back at her partner and was sightly surprised when she caught him staring at her. He looked away quickly, cringing a bit... at what, Jessie didn't know. She hid the disappointment in her face, and turned away. Fortunately, the rain slowed to a soft drizzle, and, though it took some coaxing to get Buttercup out of the cave, Jessie and Buzz were back on their horses, ready to ride.

"Outlaw," Buzz called to her. She face him as he steered his horse over to hers. "I have a proposition."

She quirked an eyebrow, interested, but cautious. "A proposition?"

He gave a brusque nod. "If you keep me alive... I promise you I will not try any sort of escape maneuver until we get to the Sheriff's."

Jessie's mouth almost fell open, but she managed to spit out, "No kiddin?"

Determined to be the upstanding Officer she assumed he was, Buzz extended his hand to her, calling for an official shake. "Deal?"

Even though she probably looked like an idiot, Jessie grinned and took his hand excitedly. "You got it, partner!"

x*x*x*x

Buzz had continued to ask her questions every once in a while, and Jessie knew it was because he was trying to get information. She didn't tell him anything important, as far as the Outlaws were concerned, but every now and again, she'd accidentally let something personal slip. Some tidbits about her life that she wasn't sure she was comfortable with Buzz knowing. On the other hand, she had to admit that she found out some interesting information about Buzz as well.

He had no idea who his mother was. Well, he knew that she was of Spanish heritage, but that's about it. She had left him and his father when he was just a boy, so Buzz's memories of his mother were scarce and faint. His father didn't talk about her a lot, but sometimes he'd say that she ran away with a Mariachi. Buzz had no idea if it was all a bitter joke or the truth. Jessie tried to picture him in a Mariachi get-up, with a big black sombrero and a rose in between his teeth as he tamed a bull. The thought made her giggle uncontrollably for about ten minutes.

He asked her about Bullseye and about her old home, on the ranch she used to occupy. She told him about picking all sorts of wild flowers with Milly, randomly, whenever they felt like it. She asked about his father, noticing that Buzz's mood seemed to change when she did so. His father didn't exactly sound like the caring type. He was either always at work, or always busy with work. If work wasn't occupying his time, then he was constantly pushing Buzz to be absolutely flawless in every imaginable way. Apparently Buzz had to take care of himself for most years of his life. Said life of his sounded _very_ detail-oriented and structured. It made her shiver, and her heart swelled with empathy.

Which she was not a fan of, for the record.

She was glad for the distraction that a nearby rattlesnake provided. She hollered, the operation of drawing her gun and firing cranking like clockwork. Buttercup and Buzz jumped, and her partner had to work in order to control the frightened pony. Having hit her target, Jess steered Bullseye around and reached to hold Buttercup's nuzzle in her hands.

"Shh," she cooed, patting his neck. "I'm sorry, boy, I'm sorry." Buttercup snorted and glared at her. She glared back. "Would you rather be bitten by the snake? You wouldn't even make it to the Sheriff's, much less back to Slink." Buttercup quieted, and Jessie kissed his forehead. "Good boy."

Bullseye hit a hoof to the ground, feeling neglected, and Jessie laughed. "What? Afraid Buttercup's becomin' my main man?" He whinnied. "Oh hush, Bullseye. You've been my favorite since I was sixteen, you know that."

"You've had him since you were sixteen?" Buzz asked, surprised.

Jessie beamed, hugging her best friend close. "We bred his parents when I was sixteen, an' I had never been more excited for a colt in my life. Nigh on a year later, Bullseye came out. I've been his and he's been mine ever since." Bullseye turned his head and licked her face. Jessie patted his neck affectionately. Buzz looked at her like she was certifiably insane.

Silence fell upon them, but it wasn't necessarily awkward. The sun was almost fully set, and the sky was turning a dark, deep azule. Due to their shortcut, the travelers had two options. They could set up at the predetermined pit stop, a small cabin, that was about an hour away, or push on for a little longer to reach a second pit stop, the next town over, which would put them halfway to the Sheriff's. They decided on the latter and continued on, riding into the night. The moon provided enough light for them to ride moderately safely, but Jessie kept her eyes pealed for dangers such as snakes or wolves.

At one point, Buzz asked her how she understood animals. She told him that she honestly had no idea; that it had always been that way. She asked him why his undercover name was _Larry_. He said that he had no choice in the matter. He had wanted something nicer like James, or Jonathan, or maybe even William. She said that if she ever went undercover, she'd want her name to be Joanne or Jenny. Though Bazooka Jane was still pretty damn good.

Buzz said that he didn't have much time to relax at home, but when he did, he liked to brew a hot cup of tea and read the newspaper. She said that she liked to soak her feet in hot water and, with the right book, she could read for hours. He managed to find out that she was an Austen fan, which made him smirk. She found out that he was fond of Tolstoy. Neither of them seemed to pay attention to the fact that both authors were on the Alliance List of Prohibited Media. He told her in passing that she reminded him of someone. Though, when Jessie asked who, he didn't reply.

Sooner or later, Buzz looked up at the sky and gasped. She glanced back at him and saw him staring upwards. She smiled knowingly.

"How do you get used to it?" He wondered, amazed. "I've never seen so many stars in my entire life."

"You never get _used_ to it," she replied. "Why d'ya think I'm a country girl?" Buzz was still awestruck. Jessie realized that city folk probably didn't see very many stars. Perhaps it was the philosophical atmosphere the stars provided, or maybe it was simple curiosity, but, without thinking, Jessie asked, "Buzz? What's one thing you want to do before you die?"

He tore his eyes away from the stars and looked at her, surprised. "Uh... I... don't know, really."

"You got nothin' you want to do before you die?" she asked, incredulous.

He shrugged. "I never really thought about it before... Why do you ask? What about you?"

Jessie inhaled deeply. "Aside from seeking revenge on a murderous bastard? I reckon I wanna fall in love."

Buzz's face paled and he practically choked on hit own spit. "Eh-excuse me?"

Luckily enough, Jessie spotted the outline of the small town on the horizon. Despite herself, she smiled and yodeled, and she and Buzz hurried their horses. There were still some people out and about the little village, mostly drunkards and poor bastards down on their luck. Jessie was relieved to see that a certain hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar was still open. She brought her horse around back, not even bothering to dismount when she knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" A squeaky, timid voice asked.

"It's Jessie, Wheezy," she said.

"What do you want?" the voice asked, not sounding very friendly.

Expecting this, she replied, "To get away from the things of man."

Immediately, bolts unlocked and the door swung open. She was greeted by a short man with slicked-back black hair and a tuxedo with a bright red bow-tie. "Jessie, it _is_ you!"

"Of course it's me, slick!" She said, getting off Bullseye and hugging him.

"Sorry," he squeaked. "The Alliance have been stepping up security. I can never be too careful anymore."

She forced a small laugh and nodded, hoping that she hadn't just endangered Wheezey with her present company. She motioned to her partner. "This Buzz, he's a... friend of mine." She ignored how strange the previous sentence sounded. "We need a place to stay for the night. Got any rooms open?"

Wheezy smiled and stood aside. "For you, Miss Jessie, there is always a vacancy."

x*x*x*x

While Jess and Buzz headed upstairs from the rowdy bar below, Wheezy took care of the horses and had a nice dinner sent to them. As they dropped their belongings in the room, Buzz stretched, cracking a few bones in his neck. Jessie did the same with her neck, and he looked at her. He then shifted his weight to produce a loud popping sound from his knees. In retaliation, she pushed her knuckles together, cracking every finger. He nodded at her efforts, then paused and twisted his torso sharply, a tick escaping from numerous vertebrae.

"Ok, ok!" she laughed, slightly more at ease. "You win!"

For a fleeting moment, he seemed to smile at her. "It comes from running an enforcement unit." He paused, catching sight of the single bed in the room. Despite everything, she thought it was kind of endearing how red his cheeks became. "Uhh..."

"Go ahead and take the bed, ranger," she said, reading his mind. "I won't be sleeping much tonight."

He didn't seem too keen with the idea, but realized she had no other choice if she ultimately wanted to remain dominant in the situation. He laid down on the mattress as Jess turned off the overhead light and lit a small oil lamp on the desk in the room. She sat down in the accompanying chair and took out her three revolvers.

"Outlaw," Buzz's voice was quiet but stern. "When this is all done... When I'm in custody at the Sheriff's... you should get some rest. It's not healthy to avoid sleep."

Jessie was too surprised to speak. She didn't say anything for fear her voice would quiver, and then he'd look over and notice she was blushing something awful. After a few minutes, a soft snore filled the silence, and she knew her partner was asleep. She leaned back in her chair, watching the young man laying motionless before her, questions clouding her senses. What was his game? What was his angle? Exactly how loyal to the Alliance was he? Why was he being even the slightest bit concerned with her well being? Was he letting his guard down or was this all a ploy?

Jess was not pleased with all her questions being unanswered, but she knew she didn't really have a say in the matter. What bothered her more than anything, though, was the fact that she cared so damn much.

x*x*x*x

She stayed up, sipping coffee and cleaning her guns. Though she did doze off in her chair every now and then, she still managed to wake up at dawn, her neck stiff and her bones weary. After an hour or so of no movement from her companion, she decided it would be safe to go to the bathroom. As she washed her face and brushed her hair, she looked at herself in the mirror. She turned to the side and touched her stomach, wondering if her fat made a bulge in her wife-beater. She made a few faces, then let out a grunt. What was she preening in the mirror for anyway? It wasn't like she had anyone to look nice for.

Well... _he_ didn't count. He couldn't count.

Jessie palmed her forehead, scolding herself for thinking of such foolish things. Just because he was warming up to her didn't mean that she could trust him. She knew that as soon as they reached the Sheriff's, he'd be back to his cold self, stopping at nothing to escape. She leaned her head on the cool glass, wondering if she was going insane for fretting over an Alliance Official.

She slowly made her way back to her room, looking down the dim hallway. For a moment, everything seemed normal, but Jessie froze, hearing something. There were a few creaks and a thudding, then a strained grunt. Noiselessly and on guard, she crept along. She pulled out her gun as she drew closer, noting that her door was slightly ajar, but the wood had been splintered as if someone had broken in. Jessie could have kicked herself. Why didn't she hear that from the bathroom! A muffled yell broke her from her thoughts. Jess took a deep breath and pounced, kicking back the door and holding up her weapon.

"Freeze, girl!"

Jessie felt her stomach drop.

Standing in her room were two of _the_ _worst_ people in the entire world. There was a woman holding a semi-automatic to Buzz, and a man holding two Rugers, one to her and one to her partner. Buzz was tied in chains, handcuffed, and gagged, sporting a few cuts and bruises Jess knew weren't there before. The mustached man cocked his firearms, but she stood her ground.

"You two Potato-Heads mind tellin' me what the hell you're doing here?"

"Why do you always call us that?" the woman snapped, angry.

"Let her call us whatever she wants," the man said. "Get the car ready."

"Don't move, Betty!" Jessie yelled when the woman moved.

The man took a step closer to Buzz, pressing the nuzzle of one of his Rugers to his bloodied temple. "You're a good shot, Jane," he stated harshly. "But you can still only kill one of us. Even if you manage it, your friend will be dead before a body hits the ground."

Jessie held Buzz's gaze for a second, then looked back at the man. Pained, she smiled bitterly before dropping her gun and putting her hands up. "How'd you find me, Bart?"

He smirked. "I was actually just in town, and I saw you, so I wanted to sop by and say hello." As Betty exited the room, Bart directed Jessie to sit in a chair, which he then proceeded to handcuff her to. "Don't want you following us," he told her as he then tied a chain to the chair, then nailed the chain to the ground.

"Wait, you're not taking me?" Jessie asked, confused.

Bart scoffed. "No, princess, not this time." He made his way over to Buzz, and Jessie's worst fears were confirmed.

"What'dya want with him, Bart?" she asked, referring to her partner. "He ain't got nothin' to do with Bounty Hunting."

"He'll fetch a far better price on the market than you," he replied smugly. "You think we're stupid, Jane? We recognize an AER Official when we see one."

Jessie gulped. "You can't take him to market." Bart quirked an eyebrow, and she pushed, "You can't! They'll rip him apart! They'll sell an ear, a hand, hell even a leg before they give him up!"

"That doesn't concern me," he said simply. "I'm in it for the cash. Whatever happens to him after he's sold is out of my hands."

"You son of a bitch," she hissed before he slapped duct tape over her mouth.

"I'd love to stay and chat, Jane, but we must be going." He walked over to Buzz, who was staring at her, petrified. Bart placed a black sack over his head, and Buzz began to struggle like a madman. Bart sighed in annoyance and pulled out a baton. Jessie yelled and pulled in her chair, but the baton came down on Buzz's head, knocking him unconscious with a sickening _thud_. It was getting hard for Jessie to breathe as she watched Bart drag Buzz's limp body past her. She tugged at her restraints until she felt the metal cut into her wrists.

"Wow, Jane," Bart laughed sinisterly. "If I had known you were so attached to him, I would have brought an extra bag for you. I'll tell you what... After we sell him, we'll come back for you, how's that?"

It didn't matter how hard Jessie fought, or how much she screamed. Bart left, taking Buzz with him, and she was left completely useless.


	7. Ride or Die

**A/N: So, up to this point, I had everything planned out and written down, but after this chapter, the text in my document for this story is just a jumble of random thoughts here and there. I will try to write the next chapter soon, but not only am I working two jobs, I am stage managing a show at the moment, so I'm going to be a little fried for the next couple of weeks. Please forgive me! And enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 7: Ride or Die

Quite honestly, Ben was tired of being captured.

He awoke from his beat down in a moving, convertible vehicle, the wind whipping at his face through the colored burlap on his head. He couldn't see anything, with the exception of light vs. dark. Pain shot through his head, and he felt the dried blood on his face crack when he moved his muscles. He heard conversation above the wind, and strained to listen.

"Why did you have to hit him over the head like that?" An annoyed female voice sounded.

"Because he was struggling!" A male responded.

"He's worth less if he's dead!"

"He's not dead, honey! Will you let me do my part of the job?"

"Let me see him."

The sack was torn off his head and Ben squinted into the harsh morning sunlight.

"See? He's fine!"

Ben glared at his captors and tried to move, though he knew he was still bound by metal. He forgot how lucky he had been with Jessie as his keeper. Now, he was tied with chains, gagged, and on his way to get sold on the black market. The car was moving too fast to jump, and even that wouldn't have done him any good. He had nowhere to go, no idea where he was (aside from the middle of dry wastelands), and he was bound and wounded. Groggy as well.

For the first time in his life, Ben had to consider the fact that he might be a dead man. Once on the black market, valuables literally disappeared. _Especially_ people. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to be held as a hostage, but no one trusted the Alliance to keep their word on anything. He'd be sold as a slave, or perhaps to someone who wanted information, or parts of him would be sold for medical research, and no one would be the wiser. He hung his head, trying to think of what kind of tools he could use to escape once they reached their destination, but that was the tricky thing about the black market. It wasn't a place; it was all people who knew people. Dingy basements and dirty hiding holes, infested with rats as well as the reptile-like creatures. He was as good as gone.

They drove for some time, finally reaching a rundown oil rig around midday. His captors shoved him roughly along, past the rusting door and into a dusty old office. They sat him down in a chair, tying him to that with just rope. They exited the room and he heard talking from down the hall. The voices outside were negotiating prices. He heard the words "arms" and "saw it off" in the same sentence. Ben looked around hopelessly, but saw nothing of use. Not even a sharp piece of wood jutting out. What he did see, however, was a snake in the corner of the room, stirring from its slumber. He gulped, letting his dizziness overcome him.

x*x*x*x

Sweat mixed with tears as Jessie struggled in her binds. She was screaming and jumping, banging around, making as much noise as she possibly could so Wheezey would find her. Assuming they didn't get to him first...

If it was possibly for humans to spontaneously combust, Jessie was pretty sure she was close to achieving it. She sat still for a moment, looking around and trying to be smart about things. She strained to look behind her, at the contraption the Potato-Heads had put her in. She took a minute to breathe, then carefully scooted her chair back so she was closer to the nail in the ground. Next, she leaned her body forward, bringing the chair up, until her knees touched the ground. She adjusted, then reached her hands as far back as she could to grab the chain, and then she pulled as hard as she possibly could. The nail was stubborn, but as Jessie slowly put her legs into it, she felt the metal budge. With a few great heaves, she finally freed the nail from the wood, and, in consequence, flew forward about two feet and fell hard on her face.

Feeling triumphant, and with a new burst of energy, she clumsily managed her way over the back of the chair, so that her handcuffed hands were in front of her. She threw the chair over her head and brought it to the ground with a resounding CRACK that sent splinters and pieces of the sitting device everywhere. Jessie cringed, knowing she'd have to pay for that out of her own pocket. With handcuffs still dangling off her wrists, she took out her knife and picked the locks. Then she ran to her abandoned gun on the floor, grabbed her hat, and ripped the duct tape from her mouth, shouting,

"I'm comin' for ya, Buzz!"

x*x*x*x

He wasn't sure how long he sat in that old room, fading in and out of consciousness, thinking about all different kinds of things. What would his father say? Would the Regime give him a medal of honor? Would they even care? His thoughts wandered onto the rag-tag vixen and her bright smile. What would she do when he was gone? Well, she'd probably rejoice, not having to take care of him or worry about trust issues. He wondered what she would tell the Sheriff. Would he be a brag-worthy story at the bar? Or would he be just another bad memory?

No sooner had he completely given up when he heard a rather familiar cracking sound of an old-fashioned revolver. He looked up, biting down on his gag, and praying that it wasn't all in his imagination. There were yells and thuds, banging, and a few more cracks, and then the door was busted open.

And there she stood.

Two smoking guns in her bloodied hands, scored wrists, hair in a tangled mess, lacerations all over her body... and she was still worried about _him_. "Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln! They didn't even fix your head!"

Ben almost lost it. Never in his life had he expected Jessie to come for him. Yet there she was, like an apparition, walking in from the sunlit dust.

He saw the mustached man before she did, and he tried to call to her, but by the time he opened his mouth, the rock had come down over Jessie's head, and she slumped to the floor. It reminded him of when he had hit her with his laser, and her body looked like it was made of nothing but cloth and stuffing.

"You just don't give up!" the Mr. said, breathing heavily and nursing a bleeding arm. He kicked her stomach, and she crumbled into herself.

"Stop that!" he tried to yell, but it all came out as muffled vowels.

Bart scooped down and picked Jessie up by the hair. She struggled with him, managing to land a hit on his rounded stomach, and another in a a rather sensitive spot in between his legs. He let her go with a cry of pain, and she stood, now sporting her knife. She reeled back, swinging a right hook that Ben could've sworn knocked a tooth loose. The bounty hunter was down.

"Sorry if I forgot to mention," she huffed, straightening. "But that there's _my_ hostage." For good measure, she butted him on the temple, then raced to Ben. "Sorry about all this," she was saying as she cut the gag, the ropes, then worked on picking the lock on his chains. "Some people just got _no_ manners."

"I can't believe you're here," he said, his voice hoarse.

She offered him a toothy grin as the lock clicked open. "We had a deal, didn't we?"

"Why didn't you just sneak in the back and grab me?"

She shrugged a shoulder, working on his handcuffs. "Honestly? I was pissed off and ready to shoot somethin' anyhow."

"Jane!" the Mrs. called as soon as Jessie was done with his bonds.

Ben looked up to see the woman pointing Jessie's gun at them, launching a surge of adrenaline through his veins. With newfound strength, he reacted by throwing his weight to the side, shoving Jessie out of the way. A bullet whizzed past his ear, but he was quick to get up. With three moves, he had reached the Mrs., disarmed her in two, and knocked her unconscious in one. He was pointing Jessie's gun at the woman's body when he heard a sharp gasp from behind. He turned...

.. and his heart stopped.

The snake had moved and was sinking its fangs through the denim jeans into Jessie's leg.

"Jessie!"

Ben rushed to her side, but she had already successfully decapitated the damned reptile and chucked its head across the room. He kneeled beside her, taking the knife from her and preparing to cut an x on top of the wound, but she lashed out, knocking the knife away. "What was that for!"

"Don't cut," she said breathily.

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely freaking out.

"Don't... cut," she said again, with difficulty.

"Shouldn't I suck the venom out?"

"No!" Her hand was still on his wrist, and she squeezed hard, her eyelids drooping. "Oh, shit... Now I can't see."

He checked her pulse, discovering it had increased dramatically. "What should I do?"

"Cloth... over bite," she managed, and Ben obeyed, ripping part of his sleeve, lifting her pant leg, and wrapping it around the bleeding and swollen flesh. She hissed, cringing.

"We need to get you to a doctor."

She shook her head. "Sheriff's... Someone there can help. Only a few miles." Ben nodded, shoving the gun in his pocket. He gritted his teeth and managed to scoop her up in his arms, then walked quickly outside, where Bullseye was loyally waiting. He whinnied at them, worried for his owner.

"We'll take the car," he said.

"No!" Jessie coughed, a spasm rocketing her body. "Bullseye's faster."

"I doubt that."

She gave a weak smile. "Oh ye of little faith."

"This is serious!" he snapped, looking down at her paling form. "If I don't get you to the Sheriff soon, you're going to die!"

She looked up at him, blinking. "Didn't think... you were one to care."

His immediate reaction was to say, "I don't." Though the statement held absolutely no meaning. Ben hoisted her up onto her horse, then jumped up after her.

Jessie coughed again as she chuckled. "Always were... bad at lyin'."

x*x*x*x

Bo Peep wandered around the saloon, picking up empty glasses and dirty dishes for the Peas to clean. She smiled sweetly at the customers, being polite to even the various young men who flirted with her. She'd bat her eyes and give a wave just to thrill them, but she never took any of them seriously. None of the men could hold a candle to her Sheriff.

Thinking that she might pay her sweetie a visit sometime soon, Bo set down her bin of utensils, using a rag to wipe her hands. She was about to go to the back room when she thought she heard something alarming. She turned to look around the saloon, seeing if anyone else noticed. A few people shared looks with one another. Then it came again.

**CRACK! CRACK!**

It was a gunshot. A gunshot from a very old revolver that Bo knew all too well.

"Mercy alive!" One customer said as those around him began to panic. "Are we in danger?"

"Not at all," Bo lied easily. She addressed the whole room when she said, "Everyone stay calm. I'm sure it's just two hooligans out to prove who has a bigger pair." Some laughed, others relaxed, and still others stayed on edge. Bo turned to their bartender saying, "Sarge, I'm going out for a look. Make sure the customers don't get itchy trigger fingers."

The young man saluted her in the old-fashioned army style. "Yes, ma'am!"

Bo reached under her dress to grab her own Beretta Cougar before exiting the establishment. People on the street were either running or standing around, talking up a storm about the gunshots. She looked around the town, then spotted a horse coming down the hill, fast. She looked closely, her heart beating rapidly. Something wasn't right.

"What's that damn cowboy thinking?" someone near her snapped. "He trying to scare everyone in this town?"

That was when Bo recognized them. She'd know that bundle of red hair clad in men's clothing anywhere, and as for Bullseye, he was hard to miss, seeing as how he was one of five horses in the area. Jessie was back from her trip. But something was wrong...

Something was _terribly_ wrong.

Bullseye was drenched in sweat, whinnying to her, and Jessie... Jessie looked like death.

"Good god!" Bo gasped and rushed out to meet the creature as he came to a stop right in front of the saloon. She looked at the stranger atop the horse, demanding to know what had happened.

"She's been bit," the young man replied, jumping down, then taking Jessie in his arms.

Her heart nearly stopped beating. "Oh, Jesus."

"Startin' to loose some feelin' here," Jessie spoke in a weak voice.

"We need to get her to Dolora," Bo said. "Come this way."

A few customers of the saloon had followed her out, and she ordered them back inside, but to tell Sarge what had happened. She hurried down the across the road and down a few buildings, the young man following her. She reached the little apothecary, opening the door with force.

"Dolly!" she called out, ignoring the few people who were looking at medical supplies.

"Christ, woman! Don't break my door!" A voice called out from the register. The quirky short-haired woman popped up from behind the counter, about to make some sort of sarcastic remark, but was silenced at the sight of them.

"Dolly, it's Jessie," Bo spoke quickly, even though she knew she didn't need to. "She's been bit."

Dolly didn't hesitate to vault over the counter and point them towards the back room, yelling at everyone else to get out. "Sorry, folks! Closed for the moment! Emergency situation! Get the hell out please!"

The young man set Jessie down on the bed in the back, Dolly right behind him with her suitcase full of instruments. Bo put her gun down, holding onto herself, trying to breathe.

"Jessie, honey, talk to me," Dolly ordered as she pulled out what looked like suction machines and a scalpel. "How do you feel?"

As a response, the cowgirl vomited, initiating a sharp gasp from Bo and tensed muscles from the stranger. She coughed, then said meekly, "I'll clean that up."

"Bo," Dolly said solemnly as she unwrapped Jessie's leg. "I don't think you should be here for this... It might get a bit messy."

"Is she going to be alright?" the young man spoke up, causing the both of them to look at him.

Dolly shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know. I need you to leave, but I'll let you know as soon as I can."

The stranger nodded numbly, and Bo took it upon herself to take his arm and lead him out of the room. She closed the door, and the two stood in the empty drug store, both pale and shaking. Bo let the gravity of the situation sink it, legs giving out underneath her. She let out a sob she had been holding, slumping to the floor.

"Oh god!" She breathed, putting a hand to her chest. "Oh god dammit, Jessie!"

"U-uh! D-don't uh, don't cry!" The young man stammered awkwardly. "I'm... I'm sure she'll be fine... I mean... I... her horse was very fast a-and... I mean..."

Though flattered at the awful attempt to comfort her, Bo took a moment on the ground, wiping her eyes. "She just means so much to us... I don't know what will happen if we... lose her..."

It was silent for a little while after that.

The stranger finally held out a hand to help her up, which she took gratefully. She straightened, inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry. I'm prone to these fits of emotion." They were quiet as Bo tried to control herself for the sake of the stranger. She asked him, "How did this happen?"

The young man scratched the back of his neck. "Well... I was captured by some bounty hunters, and she came to my aid. In the middle of the rumble, there was a snake, and... she got bit," he finished lamely.

Bo finally took notice of the young man's cuts and bruises, especially the wound on the left side of his head. "Lord sake's alive! Which bounty hunters were they that treated you so badly?"

"Uhh... the Potato-Heads?"

Bo stomped her foot angrily. "Those bastards! Treating a person so ill... we had a run in with the Potato-Heads a few years back when they were hired by the Alliance." She pulled down the shoulder sleeve on her dress to reveal a small circular mark that marred her skin. "That's from a few years back when they shot a bullet clear through my body."

The man's mouth had fallen open and he was rendered speechless. Realizing how unnerved she had made him, she cleared her throat, pulling her dress back up, and extending her hand. "I'm Bo. Bo Peep. Would you like me to help you with your cuts, Mr.-?"

"B-Buzz," he stuttered, shaking her hand. "Just call me Buzz."

Before Bo could analyze anything further, she heard the sound of spurs stomping about, and she turned to the door just as Woody walked in.

"Where is she?" He demanded, white with fear and worry. "Where's Jessie?" He stopped mid-stride, eyes locking with the stranger. His entire demeanor changed in an instant.

"... Ben?"


	8. Tension

**A/N: I know Buttercup was already introduced, but I had such a nice visual for him that I had to use him again. Enjoy! Review please!**

* * *

Chapter 8: Tension

"Woody?"

For a split second, time seemed to stop. Then... well... Bo wasn't entirely sure. Everything had happened so fast. One moment, the two men were staring at each other, the next, they were tumbling on the ground. The stranger had jumped at the Sheriff, swinging, and the Sheriff had responded. Now they were throwing each other around the apothecary, punching faces, hitting stomachs, kicking shins, etc, etc, etc.

"You lying son of a bitch! You said you were dead!" The stranger was shouting.

"Damnit, Ben, it's complicated!" Woody was yelling back.

Bo was so confused and so drained she didn't even step in between the brawl. She watched the scene unfold, leaning against the wall for support, hoping that the men would just tire each other out. She thought she heard Dolly call from the other room, but before she could act, someone else stepped in.

"What the-?"

A tall, bulky man dressed in blue jeans and hefty snakeskin boots entered the store, following the tumble with bright baby-blue eyes. His muscles tensed and bulged under his white button-up, and he calmly set down the paper bags full of groceries he had been carrying. Noticing that the two men weren't paying attention to him, the man turned to Bo, asking,

"What in the world is going on?"

Bo shrugged and shook her head helplessly. "I don't even know anymore."

The man, who had aged ripely into his early forties, scowled as the two men before him entered a strangle-hold on each other. He slicked back his bleached blonde hair, rolled up his sleeves, and stepped into the fight. With a few swift, effortless motions, he picked up the men by their collars, ripping them apart.

"HEY!" He bellowed over their cries. It was quite astonishing how quickly the two gentlemen froze. "Does someone want to tell me why the _hell_ you two are wrecking Dolly's store?"

"Buttercup, you're back!" Woody said, relieved at the sight of a comrade.

The man sighed and rolled of his eyes. "Come on, man. Can't you at least call me Bradley while in the company of a newcomer?"

"This _newcomer_ probably isn't staying long," Woody said, an untold secret darkening his eyes.

"I don't care if he's staying two minutes or two days," Buttercup said, placing the men tentatively on their feet. "But maybe, just _maybe_, you could tell poor Bo and me what's going on instead of just punching the living daylights out of each other."

Woody and the stranger looked at each other, breathing heavily, and the atmosphere grew thick with tension. Surprisingly, the stranger spoke first.

"Woodrow and I were in the academy together," he said quietly. "We were best friends in the junior training program, and we eventually became partners." The two men continued to stare at each other, unmoving.

Brad was in absolute shock. He said, "Wait a second... You're AER?" The stranger nodded. Bo gasped and Brad whipped a sawed-off shotgun out of one of the paper bags. Fiercely, he growled, "What the hell are you doing in this town?"

The young man hardly seemed phased by the weapon, let alone present in his own body. "I ran into your friend in town the other day. We fought and she took me hostage."

"Jessie?" Bo asked, surprised. "Jessie took an _AER Official_ hostage?"

"I wish she'd killed you," Brad spat.

"Calm down," Woody said, putting a hand on the shotgun so Brad would lower it. "If Jessie let him live, she must have done it for a reason."

Brad scowled, asking, "Did she know you were his partner?"

"She couldn't have," the stranger answered for Woody. "After about two years, Woodrow was kidnapped and killed by a gang of Bounty Hunters while on a solo reconnaissance mission. At least, that's what _I_ was told."

"It's _complicated_," Woody said again, edgy.

"You lied to the officials!" Buzz hissed.

"Oh, _no_! Not the officials!"

Enraged, Buzz grabbed Woody by the shirt. "You lied to _me_!"

"The hell don't you understand about _complicated_, huh!" Woody shot back.

"Fuck complicated!" Ben shouted, beside himself. "Do you have any idea how much you screwed me up? I couldn't work for days after I heard the news!"

"Oh, god forbid you stop your slave labor for a few days!"

"It's not-!"

"Working under the dictatorship of the Alliance!"

"You shut your mouth!"

"What? You really think the Alliance are the good guys in this?" Woody shouted back, roughly shoving Buzz away. "You really think that behind all the locked doors and black curtains they have the people's best interest in mind?" Upon Buzz's silence, Woody's face hardened. "I saw things on that mission, Ben. Things that made me realize I could never go back to the Alliance."

"Like what! You've been dead for almost ten years, you son of a bitch!"

"You don't understand!"

"What the hell made you disappear for _ten fucking years_!"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"Then tell me what happened!"

"ALRIGHT! That's _enough_!" Everyone stopped as soon as they heard Dolly's voice. They turned to the open doorway, and Bo gulped, not sure of the last time she had seen her friend so angry. The woman looked positively livid. With hands balled into fists, Dolly shot glares at Woody and Buzz. "Now listen up. I don't care that there's an Alliance Official here. I don't care that everyone is upset about it. I don't give two _shits_ about what happened however many years ago or who to blame or why. All I know is that I am trying to take care of a woman, that all of us love very deeply, who is _dying_! If you two selfish bastards don't take your fucked up relationship issues outside, then your loud, annoying voices are going to be the last thing that Jessie will ever hear. Do you want that!"

No one said a word.

"Bo," Dolly said sharply. "Take Woody outside and see if you can tend to Bullseye. Brad, help Buzz with his cuts. There will be _no_ fights, _no_ plans of escape, and not a single word about the Official to anyone else. _Is that clear?_" The silence was a unison agreement. "Good." Dolly turned and slammed the back door shut, leaving the four adults in a wretched stillness.

x*x*x*x

Flashing images occupied the Sheriff's mind as he tried to focus on washing off his steed. A farm, two young, smiling girls, and a loving mother and father... Fires starting in the stables first, then in the basement... Woody tried not to concentrate on the memories, but couldn't. No matter what he did, all he could see was the huge, daunting pool of blood... the smell invading his senses, stifling his nostrils and coating his lungs...

Bullseye whinnied softly, bringing Woody back to Earth. He heaved a sigh and patted the horse's neck, giving him sugar cubes for a job well done. He made his way over to a barrel and slumped down, thinking. Ben was the last person Woody had expected to see when he woke up that morning, and taking care of him would be a task that he wasn't quite ready to deal with. He knew Ben, and he knew how ridiculously addicted to protocol he was. Woody knew, even before he executed his fake death, that he wouldn't, no... _couldn't_ see Ben again. But now... now it was different.

Now, Ben was in his town, beat to shit, bloodied and exhausted, but nonetheless alive. Woody owed him a debt of gratitude for bringing Jessie back, but what was he going to do? Almost all of The Outlaws plans were mere buildings away, and if Ben got his hands on that kind of information...

"Here," Bo's voice broke the heavy silence in the horse's quarters as she offered Woody a cold can of beer.

He looked at the beverage pitifully. "No, thanks. I'm not thirsty."

Bo rolled her eyes and put the can on Woody's swollen and cut lip. Taking the hint, he accepted the can and held it against his face. "He landed a couple good hits, Sheriff," Bo said.

"He got lucky," Woody mumbled.

"Any idea what you're going to do next?"

He shook his head at this. "Nope."

Bo offered a smile, and touched his cheek, her fingertips softly brushing over his bruises. Woody shivered as Bo planted a gentle kiss upon his lips, then leaned her forehead against his. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

x*x*x*x

Blackness. Pain. Noises.

Darkness so thick that light was forgotten. Pain so deep that it penetrated the senses. Sounds so loud that they made the brain swell and eyes twitch.

She wouldn't make it out of this one. She didn't really see _how_.

Such a lousy way to go, too. A snakebite? Really?

She wondered what heaven would be like, or if she was even going there anyway. Perhaps _wherever_ she was going wouldn't have an evil dictatorship determined to rule the universe. Perhaps wherever she was going had all the whiskey you could drink. Perhaps, in this magical land, there would be such a thing as freedom of religion, text, and speech, just like Earth That Was. All the cocoa was real, and all the attractive men she met and took hostage would find it easy to make a change of heart and support her rebel cause.

Yeah...

She liked the sound of this place...

x*x*x*x

Ben did _not_ like being alone with Bradley. The entire time the two men were cleaning up his wounds, no one had said a word. Brad's face was set in an angry scowl, and he was a bit rough with the cleaning procedure. When all of Ben's cuts had been bandaged properly, Brad left the apothecary, tossing a wary glance over his shoulder. It was only then that Ben began to breathe properly again.

Strangely enough, running at that point in time was not an option Ben gave much thought. He still had no idea where he was, with thin transportation methods, and no working electronic equipment for at least ten miles. He wasn't sure which kind of prisoner situation was worse. The one with the guns, or the one with a sheer lack of options.

His mind strayed to The Alliance and what Woody had said. There was a time when Ben would have been appalled at his partner's words; when he would have gone through hell and back to prove his partner wrong. Yet, years passed, and, as he grew older, he began to see some flaws in the system. He had been passed between a few different departments, and he had seen some questionable things that the higher-ups deemed perfectly alright. Ben knew The Alliance wasn't perfect, he had known that since before he started his strenuous job of finding the Outlaws... but complete mutiny? That was something he had never even dreamed of considering. The Alliance was order, structure, support. To rebel against that sort of organization would be like rebelling against time. Everything would just... fall apart.

Ben sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked around the shop, eyes landing on the door to the back room. His face hardened as he thought about her; the wild cowgirl who was now poisoned to a sickly state in between life and death... and it was _his_ fault. Granted, she did shoot him with a revolver, tie him up in ropes and duct tape, change his clothing, dispose of his suit, and drag him around the desert as her hostage. Technically, she was a criminal in the highest degree... but still...

She had tended to the scrapes she caused him. She had fed him and given him water. She saved their hides during a sandstorm, and given him a bed to sleep on in a one-person hotel room. She had risked neck and limb to save him from bounty hunters. Throughout everything, Jessie's first priority had remained Ben's well-being. This was not the "ruthless, brutal enemy" he was prepped to meet.

As he was staring at the white door, it suddenly moved, and Dolly stood in the frame. She spotted him, saying, "Good. You're still here. Stay in the room with Jessie. I need to run and get something from the basement."

Ben stood and instinctively asked, "Is she ok?"

"Hard to tell," Dolly said, moving quickly. "Keep talking to her, ok? Make sure..." Here, she paused, and Ben didn't feel as if it were a good thing. "Make sure she doesn't... go anywhere."

The woman exited the space, and Ben was left to awkwardly sidle into the back room. He gulped at the sight of all the blood-covered instruments, his eyes settling on the ghastly image of Jessie. She was unnervingly still, sweating, and inhaling deeply, as if breathing were a challenge. She looked so pale...

Ben stood motionless, unsure of what to do. He knew he wasn't supposed to aid the enemy, but not helping Jessie seemed inhumane and heartless. She coughed suddenly, a bit of blood coming up. Without hesitation, Ben took a towel and hurriedly wiped up the mess, crimson tainting the cloth. He bit his lip, chest tightening as he brushed strands of hair away from her face.

"N-now you listen here," he spoke clumsily. "You... You got a lot of people here that... well, they like you a lot and... and they have jobs for you to do and... and..." He put down the washcloth and took her hand, squeezing. He spent a few minutes just looking at her, trying desperately to think of something to say. What could Ben, of all people, possibly say to any Outlaw that would make them stick around. Aside from the whole 'under arrest' spiel. "... You... you can't leave... You're not allowed... You have to, ah... there's these things that you... well, you just... you need to... Damnit, you just can't leave yet, ok! I didn't chafe my thighs getting you here for nothing, you understand?"

He looked at her hand. The same hand had managed to ball into a fist and deliver one hell of a right hook. It seemed so small and lifeless...

"You can't leave yet, Jessie... not yet..."


	9. The Day Winds Down

**A/N: Hello everyone! So, I'm finally done being so damn busy for the summer! :D The good news is I can work on reading and writing more. The bad news is, I still don't have everything planned out for this story. Well, I mean, I kind of do. I have endless ideas and such, it's just organizing them that's the problem. So please bare with me a little longer! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Despite the fact that it was difficult and sort of a filler, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, especially Dolly's part :) Review please!**

* * *

Chapter 9: The Day Winds Down

Woody dawned his hat and sat at the head of his small rectangular table, looking at the solemn faces of his most trusted soldiers. He looked at the empty seat to his right with a scowl, then at his watch. As if the universe knew, Dolly walked in with a worry-worn Slink, and the two took their seats at the table. Woody stood and addressed his union.

"Friends," he started. "As you all know, we have an Alliance problem that is currently sitting in Dolly's store at this very moment. What we need to discuss now is our next plan of action. If we keep him here, we are putting ourselves at great risk of either murder or exposure. However, if we let him go, those threats are even greater. Ideas?"

"Memory Deletion?" Slink proposed.

"Too risky," Bo opposed. "If anything goes wrong during the procedure, we'll turn him into a vegetable."

"And what's wrong with that?" Sarge asked.

"We must think of ethics, people!" Pricklepants interjected. "We may be an army, but we are not barbarians!"

"Barbarians?" Dolly snapped. "_We_ weren't the ones who took advantage of a dying society and created a totalitarian dictatorship of it!"

"Agreed," Bo said calmly. "But we cannot blame the entirety of the Alliance's operations on this one man."

"I say we just kill him," Sarge said.

Pricklepants gasped and cried out, "We will do nothing of the sort!"

"Even if we did kill him, the Alliance wouldn't care," Slink stated. "They have thousands of soldiers just like him."

"Not Benjamin," Woody stated. "His father is the head Securer of Peace."

"So, we kill him," Sarge said again, as if this helped his argument.

"Why not hold him for ransom?" Slink suggested.

"There's no way the Alliance would negotiate with the Outlaws and live up to their end of the bargain," Dolly said. "They'd kill us all and wipe their asses with our corpses."

Everyone fell silent, irritated and troubled.

"Look," Sheriff said. "The only solution I can think of is keeping him here till B-Day."

"That's at least another year away!" Pricklepants said, shocked. "You want to keep him here that long?"

"If everything goes according to plan, it'll only be another six months," Bo pointed out.

Dolly snorted. "Since when has anything gone according to plan with us?"

"I don't care how far away B-Day is," Sarge growled. "How are we going to keep him contained?"

"Cages work wonders," Dolly murmured under her breath.

"Honestly, who are you people?" Pricklepants exclaimed.

"As inhumane as it may be, Dolly has a point," Bo said, mostly to Woody. "I can't imagine keeping him here without chains of some sort."

"He has to have some sort of dirt we can blackmail him on," Slink said.

"His track record is completely clean," Sheriff explained. "He's the perfect soldier." Once again the room was silent. Woody looked at his people and they looked back at him. He heaved a sigh and said, "It's not the best plan, I know, but I can't see any other way about it. Bradley and Sarge will have to take shifts to escort him everywhere till we can think of something else. Until then, Slink, I'm moving headquarters to your basement. All plans and such will stay there for the time being. Brad and I will look to the prisoner's accommodations. Dismissed."

x*x*x*x

Dolly exited the meeting in a huff, a scowl on her face and her hands balled into fists. She walked out to the saloon, quietly blending in amongst the noisy customers. She slipped behind the bar, surveying the shelves for options. She wasn't in the mood for tequila, and rum wasn't enough of a bite for her... Perhaps whiskey? After a few moments of deliberation, she poured herself a shot of vodka. Tipping her head back, she downed the liquid as if it were water. She shook herself a bit, checking the time and deflating when she saw that it was a quarter till eleven. How long had this stranger been in town? Six, seven hours? The past twenty-four hours had seemed like two different days entirely.

"Having a rough time, sweet cheeks?" someone interrupted her thoughts.

Dolly looked at the one inebriated patron sitting at the bar, irritated. She rolled her eyes and ignored him, replacing the handle of vodka in its assigned place, only to pick up a better brand.

"Aw, come on!" he tried again. "I was just trying to be friendly!"

She turned, about to respond, but stopped cold once she saw the Sheriff coming around the bar. She nodded to him as he walked right up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I know you're angry," he said simply.

"I got a right to be," she replied, pulling herself away and pouring another shot.

He gave her an understanding smile, and Dolly struggled to maintain her composure. "Yes, you do... We're all a bit pissed off right now."

She glanced at him, taking another glass and pouring him a shot. "It's been a long day." The Sheriff and her drank together, both coughing a bit afterwards. "I don't see how anybody can stay calm in all this, let alone you."

"Ah, I manage," he said, waving a hand and wiping his mouth.

She touched his arm, squeezing. "You shouldn't have to just manage, Boss." Realizing herself, she retracted her hand immediately. The Sheriff didn't seem to notice.

"Now don't you go killing yourself with worry over me," he said easily. "I got people I trust around me. And Bo helps me more than I care to say."

Dolly nodded, saying quietly, "Bo's quite a lifesaver."

His smile turned dreamy as he said, "That she is." Dolly turned away, avoiding eye contact. The Sheriff took a step closer to her, his voice low when he spoke: "I know it's going to be tough, but you need to remain focused. You need to stay _strong_, Dolora, you hear me? I need you."

Her breath momentarily left her body, and she tried not to faint as she felt her heart clench tightly in her chest. She mustered up the courage to look him in the eyes. "You do?"

"Of course," he said, flashing his pearly whites. "You're the best damn doctor in this town."

Though she was paralyzed for a moment longer than she would have liked, Dolly cleared her throat and nodded. She forced a smile, like she had done so many times before, and said, "I'm the _only_ damn doctor in the town."

The Sheriff threw back his head for a laugh. He patted her shoulder once more, firmly, and then walked off. She watched him go, her shoulder prickling at his touch. As the oxygen returned to the room, Dolly busied herself with pulling her hair into a short ponytail, cleaning up shot glasses, and putting bottles back into place. A whistle alerted her that the drunk man at the bar was still hanging around. She slowly turned her head to glare at him.

"What, scab?" she dared.

The man hiccuped and laughed. "So feisty! Is that always the way you flirt?"

"Actually, no." She pulled one of the six knives from her belt, spun it in her fingers, and thrust it into the polished wooden top of the bar. "I prefer to play nurse."

The man paled horribly.

"Ah, let him go, Dolly," called Sarge from down the bar. "He's not worth it anyway."

"Shame," she said, more to herself than anyone around. "I was in the mood to stab something today."

So away she went, placing her knife in it's proper sheath, and pulling a hand-rolled cigarette out of a small box in her pocket. She left the saloon and lit up, the spice of vanilla and homegrown tobacco filling her lungs, smoke tickling her nostrils. The night air was warm and welcoming as it touched her exposed skin, and Dolly wished she had time to look at the stars... With purpose, she walked down the street to her little apothecary, hoping the best for everyone inside. With any luck, Buzz and Buttercup were in one piece, and Jessie...

Dolly inhaled her little cigar, scowling and deciding not to think about the patient for another thirty seconds. As she entered her store, Brad stood from his post and walked over to her.

"Shouldn't smoke, you know," he said with a weary smile. "It's bad for ya."

"Oh, hush," Dolly said, standing on tiptoe to ruffle his hair. "A drunkard hit on me again. I'm allowed to be grouchy."

Brad chuckled, then his face grew serious. "What did the council say?"

Dolly took a lengthy drag, knowing full well that the news wouldn't sit well with Brad. "He stays prisoner till B-Day." Until that very moment, she was unaware that the force of someone's voice could actually blow her hair back.

"WHAT! That's insane! This is jeopardizing everything!"

"It's the only choice we have!" she countered, trying to calm him down. "Everything else was too risky."

"Where are we to keep him, then?" Brad was pacing around the room, outraged. "What do we do? Keep an armed guard around him at all times?"

Dolly gave him a look of reluctancy. "Well... that's kind of where you come in." He looked at her, blankly at first, but that was quickly restored to anger once more. He opened his mouth to say something, but she rushed over and put a hand over his lips. "Brad! Sheriff has his mind set, and all we can do is the best with what we've got. This is the way it _has_ to _be_."

His shoulders sagged and he looked at her pleadingly.

"Oh, come on now," she said, removing her hand and putting it on her hip. "You know you're best suited for the job. And you've been complaining about lack of action lately."

"This isn't action, it's babysitting," Brad gruffly mumbled. He paused, brooding, before looking at her cigarette and saying, "Give me one of those."

x*x*x*x

Pressure, on her hand. A warmth that trickled through her veins, and a low humming...

No, a voice. A man's voice, telling her she couldn't leave.

At first, she ignored it. After all, Jessica Albarn didn't take orders from just anyone.

Still... it was a nice voice, and a nice warmth...

She supposed she would listen to this man... just this once...

x*x*x*x

Dolly was genuinely taken aback at what she saw in her back room. Buzz was fast asleep, head on the bed by Jessie's side, small amounts of drool trickling forth from his mouth. It was so humorous, she could have laughed out loud. She supposed the gentleman was rather exhausted from his fights with the bounty hunters. Come to think of it, Jessie probably gave him a good run for his money as well. What was most peculiar, however, was that Buzz's hand was laying overtop of Jessie's, his finger still unconsciously stroking her skin.

Dolora stood there, head tilted to the side, and her mouth slightly ajar in befuddlement. How very, very strange for an Alliance Official to show _any_ sort of emotion, let alone... dare she say it?

The prisoner stirred, and she moved quickly to the other side of the bed, not wanting to be behind a trained officer once he woke up. She began checking Jessie's vitals, thoroughly pleased to see that her heart rate was back to normal and some of her color had returned. She still had a bit of a fever, and was also still not awake. Now the pressure was on to see if she was in a coma or not.

"How is she?" Buzz asked groggily, waking up by, what Dolly assumed, sheer force of will.

"Not bad," she replied, checking Jessie's bandages. "It would be better if she were awake." She placed her stethoscope on a table and looked at Buzz, not failing to notice the deep circles under his eyes. "You should sleep."

He shook his head, rubbing his face. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," she pushed, surprising herself at her own gentleness. "You've been through a lot in the past couple of days, and depriving yourself of sleep isn't going to do anything except cause hallucinations."

Buzz was silent for a moment, before nearly whispering, "I want to be here when she wakes up."

Dolly's eyebrows shot up. "Quite noble of an Alliance Official, if you don't mind me saying so."

She knew she had struck a nerve because he clenched his jaw. Yet he didn't yell, snap back, or get upset. He simply breathed, looked her in the eye, and said, "I owe her my life. Not just once, but twice over. The least I can do is wait until she wakes up so I know that she's alright."

The two of them held the stare for a moment, before Dolly resigned. "Ok... I can respect that." So she walked over to one of the cabinets and took out a small vile of light orange liquid. She handed it to Buzz, and he took it, but stared at it questioningly as she made her way to the refrigerator. "It's just nutrients," she explained. "It doesn't taste good, but it'll help you regain some of your strength, and it'll help you heal a bit faster. No doubt you have something like it back at the Alliance bases as well."

"We do," he said just before he downed the potion. His face contorted, and he stuck out his tongue. "Still tastes like shit."

This time, Dolly did laugh. She crossed to him and held out a cold metal can. "Here. It'll help you stay awake."

He looked at it, pained. "More poison?"

She opened it for him. "Energy drink." He took it and gulped down half of the can in one go. "We, uh, have water too, you know."

He wiped his mouth. "I didn't know what I was allowed to have."

"We might have you prisoner, but that doesn't mean we're going to starve you. " she said, grabbing him a bottled water from the fridge. "If we want to kill you, we just kill you. No torture about it. And lucky for you, that's not the case." She looked in another cabinet and took a package of crackers out. Giving both items to Buzz, she added, "Now listen. This here is my store, and whatever is mine is yours." She thought for a second. "Except for the chocolate chip cookies. You can't have those."

Buzz looked shocked. "Thank you, Dolora."

The sincerity of his gratitude made Dolly aware of how badly this man had been treated in past hostage situations. She nodded and made her way out of the room. "If she wakes up, come find me. Brad should know where I am."

She closed the door to the back room, ignoring the grumbling in her stomach that alerted her that she hadn't eaten since noon. She pulled out another cigarette and walked out to her porch, leaning on the railing and putting her face in her hands.

She was so _tired_. Tired of Woody, tired of people she loved getting hurt, and tired of always being the peacekeeper amongst angry men. What she wanted, more than anything, was to just go to sleep, but she had a feeling that she would be up for a while yet. She still had to go through her inventory, make herself and Buttercup dinner, clean up the store for a regular business day tomorrow...

"Miss Dolora?"

She lifted her head, trying not to be angry at her interrupted alone time, to look at the stocky young lad in army green standing before her. He removed his helmet and gave her an old-fashioned salute. "I have a message to deliver from Sarge."

Dolly gave him a look of disbelief, keeping her chin propped on one of her hands. "Jesus, Carl, it's after midnight and Sarge is probably asleep. Don't you ever go off-duty?"

He smiled sheepishly and looked down at his hands. "Sorry, Miss Dolora. Force of habit, I suppose."

"It's Dolly, Carl," she said as the redhead walked closer. The mock-officer was so tall that the top of his head came to the banister Dolly was leaning upon, and that was sitting upon a risen porch. "Dolora makes me feel like a granny or something."

"Right," Carl said with a timid smile. "Dolly." He didn't say anything after that, so Dolly waited, expectantly, until a lightbulb went off in his head, and he continued on. "Oh! Uh, Sarge wanted me to ask you if you're still on for cards tomorrow night?"

Dolly rolled her eyes. "Does that man think of anything else but cards? He should know by now that he can't beat me..." She shook her head and lit her cigarette, thinking. "Are you going to be there?"

"Sure," he replied. "I'll make an appearance if you will."

"I suppose we can't leave him dry two players, can we?" she asked, scratching a few itches on her neck.

"I suppose," he agreed. "Besides, you know that if Sarge starts winning, it'll all go to his head."

Dolly smirked. "I guess I'll have to go then."

Carl beamed. "Yes, ma'am!" He went for a salute, stopped, then decided a handshake was a better idea.

Dolly looked at his extended hand and had a hearty laugh. She leaned down and ruffled Carl's buzzed hair. "Goodnight, Carl. Sleep well."

The freckles on Carl's face were highlighted by the pink that appeared in his cheeks. He nodded, placed his helmet back on his head, and said, "Goodnight, Miss Dolly."

He began his walk down the dirt road, and Dolly took a few more drags from her cigarette before stomping it out. She was about to head back inside when she stopped, a sudden thought occurring to her. She leaned over the railing again, calling out, "Hey, Carl?" The distanced figure stopped and turned back to face her. "I'm going to see Sarge when he swaps out with Brad later tonight. He didn't need to send you to find me, did he?" The figure was still for a moment, but then he simply turned and kept walking, his pace significantly quickened. Dolly watched after him, thoroughly confused.

It appeared that everyone was affected by the length of that day.


End file.
